


Remote Interest

by shutthefrukup, violinia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Office AU, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3568877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutthefrukup/pseuds/shutthefrukup, https://archiveofourown.org/users/violinia/pseuds/violinia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite his dreams, Arthur Kirkland has ended up working at an awful 9-5 desk job at the television remote company, Remote Location. Not only does he have to deal with his obnoxious co-worker Alfred poking fun of him all day, but he has to avoid/deal with/hide a crush on the most annoyingly gorgeous man on the earth: Francis Bonnefoy. Throughout many course of events (including tedious customer service phone calls and awkward butt-touching), the two befriend one another and become closer than that much sexual tension should allow....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jesus of (cubicle) Suburbia

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably one of the best creations I've ever been apart of. I'd like to thank my good friend, also known here as violinia, for writing this with me. She is the co-author and deserves pretty much more credit for this than I do. Go subscribe to her because she is a wonderful writer as well. 
> 
> No, this fanfic is not a joke. You are not allowed to laugh at all. If you laugh, we will send in SWAT teams...just kidding. I know, I'm not funny. But in all (not) seriousness, I hope you enjoy and we shall try to update as often as possible! <3

Everybody always talks about “making it” but what is that? How do we know if we’ve made it or not? When Arthur Kirkland was in high school, his definition of “making it” was being the most famous rockstar on the face of the planet. Kids do that. They tend to think of being a rockstar or an astronaut or some big-shot NBA basketball player. Some kids want to be millionaires and some want to nurse puppies back to health and some want to be punk rockstars. But you rarely do. Arthur had dreamed for years of being famous as most kids do when they are younger. But of course the chance of selling out Wembley Arena is a one in a million and thus led to another morning driving to his nine to five office job. Crappy car, crappy job, crappy suit and tie, and even the same crappy music he listened to in high school when he dreamed of being famous.

Arthur wasn’t sure how he ended up with this job anyway. He never wanted to be stuck answering telephone calls for idiot customers who had no common sense. In fact Arthur had really no idea why they put him on customer service anyway. “Hello, thank you for calling Remote Location, my name is Arthur, how may I help you?” “Ah, yes, my TV remote stopped working like a week ago? Can I get a refund?” “Ma’am, you need to change your batteries.” If there was anything he hated more than his job, it was the people he had to work with and talk to every day. Dealing with the people at work was a challenge even more so than taking phone calls because it seemed that everyone at the office was a complete moron. Especially Alfred Jones. Alfred Jones was the chubby, blond, happy-go-lucky guy that worked in the cubicle next to Arthur. He wore glasses and always had some kind of fast food lying around on his desk or rotting away in the trash can. Arthur didn’t like him very much but, somehow considered him a dear friend.

Then of course, there was the _frog_. Francis Bonnefoy, the beautiful man on the other side of Arthur’s cubicle. Whenever Arthur wasn’t busy with a call, he could hear the gentle Frenchman’s accent, him flirting with the customer on the other line. Arthur did his best to avoid Francis; he absolutely hated his flawless, silky blond hair, his piercing blue eyes and perfected stubble. He was like Jesus, if Jesus worked in customer service and was a complete pervert. He couldn’t stand to look at the man, nor listen to his heavy, over-the-top, slightly musical, French accent. It was true that Arthur hated most people, but he hated Francis Bonnefoy the most.

It was the typical work day listening to Francis’ stupidly beautiful over the phone and Alfred’s obnoxious voice yelling cheerily at customers. Arthur went to go make a cup of tea in the break room at around noon. Alfred followed behind him, riding along on his Razor scooter he kept in his cubicle. Alfred could’ve won an award for being the laziest human being on the face of the planet. Once they were in the break room, Alfred sat at one of the small tables and pulled out a Wendy’s bag. Arthur crinkled his nose at the stench of fast-food and went along making his tea.

“Hey, dude, I saw Francis grab that new girl’s ass today. Are you jealous?”

“Why on earth would I be jealous? I hope the girl files a lawsuit against him.” Arthur replied. “Then I wouldn’t have to see his stupid frog face ever again.”

“Okay well I didn’t actually see it happen but I heard about it. Besides, you’re like totally gay for him. You might as well be wearing a t-shirt that says ‘I Want Francis Bonnefoy to-’”

“Okay, stop it right there,” Arthur cut him off, “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not gay?”

Alfred took a sip of his extra-large diet coke and raised his eyebrows. “Well you know maybe I would believe you if you stopped making googly eyes at that guy all day.”

“I do not! I am not gay and even if I was, I would have no interest in Francis Bonnefoy whatsoever.” Arthur snapped. “And when have I actually made ‘googly’ eyes towards Francis? There’s a wall between us!” Alfred shrugged and took another sip of his soft drink.

“He does walk by pretty often. Maybe he wants to see you.” Al continued to tease. “Maybe you should ask him out on a date; there’s a bar just down the street. Mattie, Franny and I go down there all the time. I think you’d ‘quite like it’.” Arthur cringed at Alfred’s horrid attempt at his South London accent.

“Franny? If anyone is gay for that idiot, I think it’s you.”

Arthur scowled and took his cup of tea back to his cubicle, leaving Alfred sitting in the break room in the company of his hamburger and french fries. He had to walk past Francis’ cubicle on the way back to his own desk. Every day was the same exact routine, praying that he wouldn’t have to speak with the French imbecile who sat on the other side of the wall. Arthur stalked past Francis’ desk, his head down. Francis seemed to be on the phone with a customer. His voice floated across the workplace suburbia of cubicles like the song of a bird. Arthur hated it, to be quite honest.

As soon as he sat down in his wretched desk chair, he heard the click of a phone being placed down and the scuffing of plastic wheels rolling against the tile floor. “ _Bonjour_ , Arthur,” Francis greeted, behind him. “I was wondering if you’d like to go for a drink after hou--”

“Not interested.” Arthur interrupted. “I believe your phone is ringing, Francis.” He heard a sigh and Francis scooting closer to him.

“That is your phone, _mon ami_. Not mine. Perhaps you should let Matthieu answer it. He’s been on break for--” Arthur quickly snatched the phone up and balanced it between his jaw and shoulder.

“Hello, thank you for calling Remote Location, my name is Arthur. How may I assist you?” he answered, pushing Francis back. Francis let out another sigh, taking his cue to roll back to his lousy cubicle to the right of Arthur’s. The Brit smirked to himself as he tuned out the squabbling on the other line. For once, a customer’s phone call had been perfect timing so he did not have to deal with that bothersome frog. Unfortunately, he had to pretend that he cared about the customer’s problems with TV remotes.

“Hi, Arthur, was it?” the old woman on the other line croaked. “I believe that my remote has disappeared from my coffee table.” Arthur bit his lip, fighting a groan.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure I can exactly help you with that problem.” he answered. “Perhaps you just misplaced it? Or maybe one of the cats pushed it under the sofa.”

“No, no, I am certain I put it back on the coffee table where it belongs. Could you sound the alarm for me to find it?” she pleaded. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Is the remote a Grand Deluxe 3000? I can only do that if it is that type of remote, ma’am.”

“Grand Deluxe 3000? No, I believe I have the...oh there it is! Kiki, what are you doing with my remote? It’s not a toy...now give it back!” And cue the line going dead.  Arthur hung up his phone with a sigh. He leaned forward on his elbows, massaging his temples. Of course that _damn_ cat’s name was Kiki. People were so astoundingly stupid nowadays. He sat back in his chair as he heard Alfred sitting down beside him. Arthur was about to pick up the phone and pretend to be taking a call but it was too late. Alfred had already peaked his head around the corner to smile at Arthur.

“Did you talk to Franny?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Arthur looked away and rolled his eyes. “No, and I couldn’t care less. You need to get it through your thick skull that I have absolutely no interest in him!”

Alfred shrank back in his seat and glanced around the office. A few people had heard Arthur’s little explosion and were now staring at him. Arthur cleared his throat and straightened his tie, then leaned in to speak again.

“Look, Alfred, please just stop bothering me about this. I’m not gay and I do not like Francis. I’m straight as an arrow. Just look at me.” Arthur said, waving to himself.

Alfred gave him a once-over and shrugged. “I don’t know man, you look pretty gay to me.” Arthur frowned and smoothed out his salmon button down shirt with little white buttons. He tried to think of something to argue with, but he couldn’t exactly argue with Alfred for once.

“It was a Christmas gift from my mum!” he retorted, turning back to the paperwork on his desk so he didn’t have to see Alfred laughing at him.

“Okay dude, I’m not trying to offend you or your girly pink shirt but you just don’t come across as straight. I know I’m stereotyping but I know you haven’t even dated a girl in years, so much as looked at one.” Alfred explained to him. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, dude. And I think Franny likes you back as well, so, take a chance and try to tap that!”

Arthur grimaced at they way Alfred spoke. He was like an old man trying to use texting lingo, although he was younger than Arthur and spoke that way all the time.

“I don’t want to ‘tap that’, Alfred. I’m just not gay. I haven’t been dating anyone recently because I have a busy life. I’m working and I’ve got my own apartment now and I have no time for dating.” Arthur told him.

“Dude, what are you waiting for! If I swung that way, I would _totally_ be hitting up Francis. I bet he knows all kind of positions and tric--” Alfred began.

“No. Just no. Please, Alfred. I’ve got work to do so can we just talk about this later.” Arthur cut him off quickly.

Admittedly the thought of Francis like that just made him uncomfortable and Arthur would rather not have been talking about something like that. Not to mention the fact that Francis was sitting right across from them at the time. He could only imagine though how good Francis probably was at things like that and he probably...no. Arthur shook his head to clear his thoughts and turned his attention back to the work he was doing, hearing feet and wheels shuffling from Francis’ side back into place. He was not gay and he did not like Francis Bonnefoy. Not a single bit.


	2. The Holy (butt) Grail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Here's the second chapter of this pretty silly fanfic! We hope you enjoy the comedy throughout this chapter and will at least laugh once while you're reading! Another update should be on it's way soon! 
> 
> -Katelyn (violinia)

Francis was the type of the person who saw the beauty in everything on the earth. Growing up, he was taught to look deeper and find the beauty in the world, especially in humans. Now, all grown up, Francis saw the world as a beautiful, gorgeous place and the people around him were wonderful. Except, of course, for that moody Englishman right next to him in the office.

Francis didn’t mind Arthur Kirkland in all honesty; he actually thought the man, deep down, was a sensitive person with a hardened heart. Arthur wasn’t actually a terrible person, if you managed to run into him on a day where he was in a good mood. Arthur wasn’t quite the looker (not like the beautiful Francis, of course), but he was attractive, nonetheless, in his own special way. Francis caught Arthur sneaking the occasional glances towards him and the quick look away, with a small smile curling at his lips. Arthur Kirkland had a little, no, rather _big_ school girl crush on Francis, and Francis thought it was the most adorable thing in the world.

Alfred had a knack for teasing his colleagues, and his favorite target was Arthur. When he, Matthew and Francis were all sitting at the bar down the street, he made jokes about Arthur for an hour.

“‘It was a Christmas gift from my mum!’ I’m telling you Matt, you should’ve seen the horrified look on his face!” Alfred laughed. He slammed his beer glass onto the wooden bar, wiping the foam away from his mouth. “The man seriously believes he has us fooled that he’s straight. Can you believe that?!”

“You shouldn’t _force_ him to tell us, Al,” Matthew, Alfred’s twin brother, muttered softly. “People usually want to feel comfortable with their colleagues before they tell them a big secret like that.” Alfred snorted, some beer spilling out from his lips.

“Dude, he is _so_ gay. Am I right, Franny?” Alfred shouted. He turned and patted Francis’ shoulder. Francis smirked.

“Don’t call me Franny.” he replied, sliding his wine glass away. “We have no right to make fun of a man who isn’t sure of himself.”

“But you know for a fact that he has the biggest crush on you, Francis!” Alfred crossed his arms and turned back to Matthew. “You know it too, don’t you, Mattie?” Matthew sighed and waved to catch the bartender’s attention, the international gesture for ‘another round, please!’. As the bartender took away their glasses and refilled them, Alfred leaned back and snatched a handful of beer nuts from the bowl in front of him. “Francis, why don’t you ask him out on a date?”

“Because he is not comfortable and he has not told me personally that he is gay.” Francis answered. “I would be a horrible person to assume that he is gay because he is single at the moment.”

“But he _stares_ at you, Franny! Long and hard!” Alfred chuckled. “No pun intended, man.” Francis scowled.

“Call me Franny one more time and I’m leaving.” he hissed.

“Seriously, he stares at you _a lot,_ Francis. He has that dreamy look in his eyes, the smile! _The smile_! And don’t think I haven’t seen you glancing back at him either; you’ve pondered about him!” Alfred continued without pausing. “He would be the happiest man alive if you ask him out! He’s so miserable and grumpy all the damn time; make him lighten up a bit!” Francis shook his head.

“I have no right. If he told me that he was gay, I most certainly would. But he hasn’t, and therefore, I will not ask him.” he mumbled. The bartender slid the refilled wine glass towards Francis and nodded, smiling.

“I agree with Francis; we don’t have any right to force Arthur into a relationship and or embarrass him.” Matthew added. “In the meantime, maybe we can invite him to have drinks with us tomorrow. It’ll loosen him up a bit.”

“So, you agree with me that Arthur’s grumpy!” Alfred yelled. “See, Francis! I’m not--”

“That’s it,” Francis sighed, sliding off of the bar stool. “I’m going home. Matthew, have a good rest of the day.” He paused as he pulled out his wallet and left a few dollars on the counter. “Alfred.” He nodded and turned away, stepping out of the bar.

How to make Arthur Kirkland a happier person was the question on everyone’s minds, and unfortunately, Francis had no answer for them.

* * *

 

The next day at the office was going surprisingly quietly. Arthur hadn’t taken too many calls and was feeling sort of bored. He didn’t have much paperwork to do for the day so he figured he could go refill his cup of tea. Arthur got up from his desk and strolled down the aisle of cubicles to the break room. He set his special TARDIS mug down on the counter and set to making more tea. He was one of the only people that drank tea in the office rather than coffee besides Kiku, a surprisingly persuasive marketing manager, and another sales rep from India. Arthur hummed softly to himself as he went about his business. Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Francis strolling into the break room. He was like some sort of runway model; his beautiful blond hair falling around his face perfectly and his button down shirt fitting him ever so nicely.

“You look terrible today.” Arthur sneered, turning away from him.

“Well I wasn’t expecting such a rude greeting this morning, _mon ami.”_ Francis said, sidling up at the counter next to Arthur. Arthur could smell his rose-scented perfume that he wore that was supposed to be for women but he pulled it off anyway.

“Don’t call me that. We’re not friends.” Arthur spat, plopping a teabag into his mug. Francis was very close to him and Arthur didn’t like it. He glanced over at the Frenchman who was busy changing out the filter in the coffee machine. Francis was wearing a baby blue tie that quite nicely complimented his eyes and judging from the state of his chin, he hadn’t shaved in a few days. It would’ve been attractive if Arthur was actually into him.

“Why so rude today? I didn’t even point out that awful grandpa sweater you are wearing and yet you still give me rudeness.” Francis said, pressing down the top of the coffee maker to begin brewing a new pot.

“Well you just did point out my sweater so now I actually do have something to be rude about. This sweater, by the way, is brand new and hand knit so you can just piss off and go flirt with someone who actually buys your rose-scented bullshit.”

Francis just laughed and raised an eyebrow. “Rose-scented? Arthur, I knew you were a charming man but I didn’t know how much you liked the perfume I wear.”

Arthur looked away from him and scowled. Francis was just being a complete asshole now and he did not need this in any way. Arthur pushed past Francis as he took the fresh pot of coffee and refilled his mug. Arthur was about out the door when he whirled turned back around to see Francis watching him with an amused smirk on his face. Oh how he wanted to slap that smirk right off his face.

“You are so arrogant, you think everything is about you! It’s not. I couldn’t care less, Francis. Just mind your own business.” Arthur said, his eyebrows arching as they did when he was angry.

Francis chuckled softly and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the countertop. “Arthur, I’m sorry. You’re just so angry all the time and I feel bad. Such angry expressions don’t go so well with those nice eyes of yours, after all. I want you to loosen up though so I was wondering if you’d like to come out for drinks tonight. Not as a date or anything, but with me and Matthew and Alfred. It’ll just be some fun and maybe you can let loose for an hour or so.” Arthur was quiet for a moment. Francis was being too kind now and he wasn’t sure whether this was genuine or if it was just Alfred trying to set them up on a date. He didn’t liked Francis in that way and he didn’t even like guys in that way but Arthur supposed that if it was Francis asking, then it must’ve just been friendly. If Francis wanted it to be a date then he would have said that.

Arthur sighed and fiddled with the handle of his mug. “Fine, I’ll join you tonight. I suppose you’re correct in saying that I need to loosen up a bit. But just tonight, and this is not a date.”

Francis nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “Not a date. Just some fun. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you tonight.”

* * *

 

It had been quite some time since Arthur stepped into a bar; he typically had issues controlling himself around alcohol, so years ago, he promised himself he’d stop drinking. Tonight, however, was different; Arthur would only be social drinking, and would be able to control himself from overdoing it. He followed close behind Matthew and Alfred, finding that Francis was already sitting at the bar, swirling the velvety red liquid in its glass.

“Franny!” Alfred cheered. He slapped Francis’ back heavily and laughed. “Look who decided to join us today!” Francis gently pushed Alfred’s arm away and glanced over his shoulder, smiling at Arthur. Alfred leaned closer. “Now’s your chance, bro! Tell him how you feel, take him home and--”

“ _Non_.” Francis hissed. “You wanted me to convince him to have a drink with us and so I did. I will not be taking advantage of him; not tonight, not ever.” Alfred frowned and stepped away, pulling out a bar stool two down from Francis. Matthew sat between him, patting Francis on the shoulder. Arthur, on the other hand, hesitated before sitting next to Francis. The Frenchman smiled. “I’m so glad you could join us, Arthur! What can I get you? Do you like wine? Or maybe you’re more of a cocktail type?”

“I believe we agreed that this wasn’t a date. Don’t you dare buy me a drink!” Arthur snapped. “A pint is just fine.”

“That’s British for beer!” Alfred shouted, obnoxiously, pointing to the bartender who had already given him and Matthew their drinks. Arthur groaned and shook his head.

“How I wish that man would keep his big fat mouth shut.” he muttered, under his breath. Finally, he took a seat next to Francis and hunched over the counter, taking a deep breath. “It’s been a few years since I’ve had a drink; this is quite nice.” Matthew leaned back and looked around Francis.

“You haven’t had a drink in a few years? How do you live with yourself?” Matthew joked, with a genuine smile. Arthur smiled back and shrugged.

“I’m not the best drunk to be around, to say the least,” he answered. “I always manage to get myself into trouble when I’m around alcohol. So, I decided to promise myself to avoid alcohol, even at the best of times.” Matthew frowned.

“Oh, you’re not an alcoholic, are you?” He quickly turned to Alfred, giving him a stern glare. “Alfred insisted that you join us tonight.”

“No, no, nothing to worry about. I’m only going to have one pint, that’s it.” Arthur said, lightly. “I’ll be on my way after that; I won’t be here for long.”

“Come on, man, you can’t walk into a bar and only have one drink!” Alfred hollered. Francis rolled his eyes.

“I did, just yesterday.” Francis muttered. “Don’t listen to him Arthur, do as you wish.” Arthur narrowed his eyes; there was no reason for Francis to be so nice to him. So why the sudden turn of events? First, he invites him to have a drink with the guys, then, he’s telling him to do as he wished? Perhaps Francis pitied Arthur, considering he was the loner of sorts, read too many fantasy books for his own good and spoiled his fat, round cat rotten. Francis was only making fun of Arthur, in a very indirect way, and Arthur wanted to smack that smug grin off of that French Frog’s face.

“Sure, Alfred’s right. I can’t walk into a bar and only have one drink.” he said. He picked up his glass and quickly chugged the brown liquid down. After he was done, he slammed the glass down, just like he used to in his slightly younger years back in London, and wiped the froth from his mouth. “Excuse me, but I think I’ll have another.” he added, waving the bartender down. Francis frowned.

“Arthur, if you already know your limits, please, don’t over do it.” Francis whispered, placing a gentle hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Arthur snapped. “I’m only going to have two drinks and that’s that. You’ve got nothing to worry about, _frog_.” Typically, Arthur was a man of his word, but with Alfred egging him on to “chug, chug, chug, chug!”, within the hour, Arthur had close to seven pints. He slumped over the bar, cradling his half empty glass and groaned.

“Man, you really know how to party.” Alfred commented, laughing. “We should’ve forced you to join us a long time ago!”

“I only came because Francis would be here…” Arthur replied, his words heavily slurred. He outstretched his hand and tugged on a small portion of Francis’ hair. “How do you get your hair so silky? Mine always looks like I just rolled out of bed after a late night shag.” Francis’ eyes widened as he took a step back, sliding his glass away from him and turned to Alfred.

“Do you see what you’ve done?!” he hissed. “You’re making him embarrass himself!” Alfred shrugged.

“Your arse is just so _perky_! And so tight! Do you do those...butt exercises they talk about in those commercials?” Arthur mused, sliding off of his chair. He smacked Francis’ butt, causing him to let out a tiny yelp and quickly turn around. “Oh, I bet you like that, Frenchie! I bet you’re soooo _naughty_.” Matthew quickly covered his mouth to cover up his laughing.

“Oh my God…” he muttered, snickering. Francis scowled at Alfred and helped Arthur stand upright, guiding him towards the door.

“Come on, Arthur, let’s get you home.” Francis mumbled, softly. Arthur let out a laugh, stumbling over and crashing into one of the tables, knocking over the oil lit candle.

“Boullocks, who put that table there?” he asked, still laughing. “Oh well, I’ve got a little Frenchman to entertain me ton--”

“Arthur, where’s your house?” Francis interrupted. Arthur paused, thinking. He turned to Francis and grinned.

“I don’t remember!” he sang. “Looks like we’re going to have a sleepover! Hooray!” Francis sighed, kicking the door open and leading Arthur down the street to his car. “Hey, hey, my car’s back at the office! Take me there!”

“There is no way in hell you are driving home.” Francis said, unlocking the passenger’s side. “Get in; I’ll take you to my place. When you’ve sobered up, I’ll bring you back here and you can drive home.” Arthur tumbled into the car, barely missing his head onto the roof, and giggled. Francis shook his head, closing the door and briskly walked over to the driver’s side. As he started the car and drove to his apartment, Arthur’s giggling grew louder and never ceased. Once they pulled into the driveway, Arthur turned to Francis, flashing the biggest grin.

“I’m gonna kiss you," he announced, unbuckling his seat belt. "You gorgeous man."


	3. Awkward Drunk Encounters

Arthur wasn’t much of a terrible drunk as he was of an entertaining drunk; if Francis didn’t have to deal with Arthur trying to kiss and take his shirt off, he would be laughing with the rest of the crowd. The Frenchman managed to get Arthur inside his apartment, guiding him over to the couch to sit. “Oh come on, Francis! You know you want to!” Arthur taunted, still trying to unbutton Francis’ dress shirt. The alcohol had made him extremely uncoordinated; he had been struggling to unbutton the same button for ten minutes. That, or he was _pathetically_ out of practice.

“Let me get you some water.” Francis murmured, walking to the kitchen. Arthur laughed, flopping back on the couch.

“Do you have any scotch??? I’m ready for some harder liquor!” he asked, lying down.

“You don’t need anymore alcohol, Arthur,” Francis called back. “What you really need is some water; we need to make sure you don’t wake up with a terrible hangover. You’ll be even more grumpier than usual.” Arthur started laughing hysterically again (as to why, Francis still couldn’t figure out), and rolled off of the couch. Francis sighed as he pulled a cup out of the cabinet and filled it with tap water. How was he going to get this poor, sorry Englishman out of his apartment? The man clearly forgot his address as soon as he began drinking his sorrows away, and was insistent upon sleeping with Francis. Just how desperate was Arthur, after all?

“Here,” Francis muttered, giving the cup to Arthur. Arthur sat up and leaned against the couch, grinning. “I’m happy to let you stay here for a bit, Arthur, but you’ve got to remember your address soon. I don’t like having people sleeping over here.”

“If I were a gorgeous woman, you’d be all over me, wouldn’t you?” Arthur teased, sipping the water. “If I had huge tits, spilling out of my top and a skirt that barely covered my arse, you’d be taking advantage of me right now. Teasing me and--”

“I _do not_ sleep with anyone who’s drunk.” Francis said, sternly. “Man or woman.” He then sighed as he collapsed onto his recliner, holding his head up with his hands. Yes, not only was Arthur extremely drunk, but he was most definitely _desperate_. The poor guy probably hadn’t even been touched since his teen years, if ever.

“But you’re French! You people _love_ to have sex! It’s like, a national pastime, or something!” Arthur stood up and tried unbutton his own shirt. Francis’ eye twitched in frustration as he pushed Arthur back onto the couch and moved to his bedroom. “Hey! Come back! It was just a joke!” Francis continued to ignore him as he dialed Matthew’s cell number and waited patiently. “Francis! Come on! I didn’t mean to offe--” Arthur stopped as Francis heard the other line pick up.

“Hello?” Matthew answered.

“Help me, please. He’s still trying to undress me and is making a complete ass of himself. Could I hit him over the head with something so he’ll pass out?” Francis said quietly into the phone.

There was the sound of Matthew laughing on the other line. It wasn’t an amused laugh as much as it was a pitiful one. “Don’t hurt the poor guy, Francis. Just get him some water and get him to sit down for a little while and maybe he’ll fall asleep or something.”

“I’ve already tried that. He’s just so...desperate.” Francis sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. He could hear Arthur mumbling and crashing around in the hall outside his room. Francis didn’t know what to do about this poor drunk Englishman who happened to be ridiculously thirsty for him.

“I don’t know what to tell you Francis. Give him a few more minutes and he’ll probably be out-cold soon.”

“Fine...thanks Matthew.” Francis muttered. He didn’t hear Matthew reply before he hung up and left his room to go see how Arthur was faring.

Francis went to the couch where he assumed Arthur would be passed out but instead didn’t find him there. Panic rose through his chest as Francis wondered where Arthur could’ve wandered off to. Had he left the apartment? As if right on cue, Francis heard the upsetting sounds of Arthur convulsing in the bathroom. He rushed to the bathroom where, sure enough, Arthur was leaning over the toilet. Arthur’s skinny frame shook as he threw up again in Francis’ toilet. Francis went over to him when he seemed finished and put a gentle hand on his back.

“Are you alright?” Francis asked in a quiet and concerned voice.

Arthur nodded and suddenly looked exhausted. “Yeah…” he groaned.

“Come on, let’s get you to the couch.” Francis wrapped his arm under his shoulder and assisted Arthur over to the couch where he lay him on his side so he wouldn’t choke if he threw up again. Just as Matthew had said, Arthur passed out within minutes.

Once he was asleep, Francis went to his own room and lay on the bed. What the hell was he going to do now? Arthur was going to wake up the next morning and throw up again. The man passed out on the couch would awake the next morning as a violent and grumpy beast with bared teeth and hollowed red eyes. That man would be the most embarrassed he’d ever be in his life or he wouldn’t remember any of it. Francis prayed that he wouldn’t remember any of it. If Arthur did remember any of it, it would not be good.

Francis just lay there for what could have easily been hours. He never should’ve invited Arthur out anyway. He hadn’t known Arthur would do something like that or embarrass himself in such a horrible way. There was also the matter of feeling somewhat bad for the poor English boy who tried to strip in Francis’ living room. Arthur was horribly desperate for any kind of affection which wasn’t actually that surprising. Being constantly grumpy and bitter about everything would easily be a cause for needing affection. Arthur was a lonely and desperate man who was simply starved of love.

But Francis still didn’t know what to do. He didn’t like having drunk men pass out on his couch for the night, especially Arthur Kirkland. He would just wait until the next morning and help Arthur when he woke up. Francis would drive him back to his own home and hopefully wouldn’t have to bring up anything of what happened the previous night. Maybe if they were lucky, Arthur wouldn’t remember anything and they could go back to hating one another as usual.

* * *

 

The room was pounding and the light was screaming. Arthur fluttered his eyes open the next morning to find that he was indeed, not in his home. He sat up with a jump, startled and confused. The apartment was much too nice to be in his apartment complex, let alone someone who was a mere acquaintance of his. Arthur had no idea whose apartment he was in, until he smelled _rose perfume._

“Shit.” Arthur hissed under his breath, stumbling over his feet and hurriedly shoving his feet into his shoes. “How the hell did I end up in Francis’ apartment?” he asked himself under his breath. He had no idea where Francis was lurking about, but he wanted to be quiet as possible. His head was pounding like crazy, and he knew that barging out of the apartment would only make his hangover worse. _Perhaps I should ask for some pain reliever_. Arthur thought to himself, staring at the closed door he assumed led to Francis’ bedroom. He shook his head and went for the door. “I have to get home and--”

“Oh good, you’re awake.” He heard Francis say behind him. “I can drive you back to the bar so you can get your car.”

“Why the _bloody hell_ am I in your apartment?!” Arthur snapped, quickly spinning around. Francis lifted his eyebrows, shocked.

“You don’t remember, _mon ami_?” he asked. He sighed, running a hand through his silky hair. “You were so drunk that you couldn’t remember what your address was; so I just brought you here.” Francis smiled as if he were silently mocking Arthur and grabbed Arthur’s suit jacket off of the reclining chair and tossed it to him. “It’s probably for the best you don’t remember what happened last night.”

“Oh really? Why? Because you took advantage of me, you damn pervert!” Arthur shouted. He winced at his voice; damn this blasted hangover! Francis sighed and shook his head.

“No, you were trying to make a pass at me, Arthur. Several passes.” Francis corrected. “But, what happened, happened. Right now, we have to worry about getting you home.” Arthur scowled at him, which made his hangover worse, and watched Francis push past him and unlock the door. He paused. “Do you need sunglasses?” Arthur reluctantly smiled and stepped out of the way as Francis swiped his own pair off of the table that sat in the middle of the living room. The two men stepped outside, and despite the protection of the sunglasses, Arthur still flinched and moaned at the sun’s light. He followed Francis down the stairs to the parking garage and climbed into the passenger’s seat. As Francis turned on the ignition, he turned to Arthur, smiling. “Perhaps I should be your escort today? You must have a terrible hangover.”

“I’m perfectly fine with driving. I’m a grown man!” Arthur hissed, crossing his arms. They drove off into traffic and Arthur instructed Francis where the turns were and in ten minutes, they pulled up into Arthur’s apartment complex. “Thanks, frog.” Arthur muttered, climbing out and slamming the door behind him. He stepped into the building and sluggishly climbed the stairs to his apartment. “This day is going to be pure hell.” he said to himself, stepping into his messy living room. His fat, round cat, Churchill, greeted him with a rather big meow, sitting right in front of the door. “Not now, Churchill,” Arthur grumbled, walking past the hungry cat.

The hungover Englishman shuffled into his bedroom and quickly stripped as he continued walking into the bathroom. He turned on the shower to warm up and snatched his toothbrush out of its holder. _What the hell happened last night?_ He kept thinking to himself, squirting the paste onto the toothbrush. Arthur couldn’t picture himself making any passes at Francis, he was too cowardly in the end. Though, alcohol sometimes was referred to as liquid courage and in some people’s minds, it acted as truth serum. Still, Arthur couldn’t remember a blasted thing that happened last night besides sitting with Alfred, Matthew and Francis at the bar. _That’s it, I’m never drinking again. And that’s the truth, Arthur!_

After rinsing his mouth, Arthur slinked into the shower and sighed with relief as the warm water hit his bare skin. He hated the disgusting, oily film that seemed to appear on his skin when he was out drinking; that was one of the reasons why he decided to stop the terrible habit years ago. For once, Arthur wanted to be less of stickler and be “one of the cool kids”, as Alfred would say. So he decided to break his own promise and drink like a madman. He was paying for it now; not only with physical pain, but he was also dealing with a blackout from the previous night. As he rinsed his hair with shampoo, he suddenly remembered one event. Arthur nearly slipped out of the shower as he reached to open the glass door. He snatched a towel off of the rack and stared at his reflection, shouting:

“I slapped Francis’ _arse_!”

* * *

 

Francis rushed into the office and slid into his desk chair, throwing his bag against the cubicle wall. He let out a sigh, putting his elbows on the desk and ran his hands through his hair. “ _Mon Dieu_ , how am I supposed to deal with Arthur?” he muttered. He heard heavy footsteps approach from behind and a hard slap landed on his shoulder.

“Franny!!” Alfred cheered. “Did you get lucky last night?” Francis slowly spun around in his chair and gave Alfred a stern glare.

“First of all, stop calling me Franny. And second, no, I did not get ‘lucky’ last night. Arthur was extremely drunk and I had to make sure he was okay.” Francis replied, sternly. “I should’ve made you take him home instead! It was _your_ idea to get him drunk!” Alfred shrugged and smirked.

“I just want Arthur to loosen up a bit! I’m pretty sure he thinks being gay is horrible and that having a crush  on another man is--” he began.

“Alfred,” Francis grumbled. “Let Arthur come out in his own time.”

“But you’re gay too, right?! Can’t you like, give him some guidance on how to be comfortable and okay with it?!” Alfred asked. “I mean, he’s twenty-seven years old! He’s acting like he’s eighteen!”

“ _Pardon moi_ , I am pansexual! It’s probably because people like you want him to act and be a certain way!” Francis shouted. “Arthur and I aren’t fictional characters, Alfred; we’re real people! You can’t push us together in some fan fiction and make us kiss! This isn’t how reality works!” Alfred frowned.

“But you two like each other, do you not?” he mumbled, pressing two fingers together. Francis hesitated, slowly turning back to his desk. He did have _some_ admiration towards Arthur, but it was only because he was so easy to annoy and pester. Francis believed that Arthur could be an amazing person if he could just let go of his stiffness and prudishness. Every once and a while, Francis overheard Arthur talking in the breakroom about his hobby for music. In his teenage years, Arthur and his friends had a band together, and performed in bars around London on weekend nights. On good days, Francis could hear Arthur humming to himself when the business was running low. He had a _lovely_ voice. Arthur was quite the poet as well; when he was bored, he wrote his own song lyrics on small post-it notes, leaving them around his desk. In a strange way, Arthur seemed to be the romantic. Arthur, indeed, was a beautiful person, but Francis only tolerated him.

“Arthur and I are just colleagues.” Francis finally answered. Alfred walked around Francis’ chair and leaned on his desk.

“You took a long time to answer that, Franny.” he muttered, mockingly. “What made you hesitate, bro?” Francis gritted his teeth and smacked Alfred’s hand away.

“Go do your job, Alfred.” he hissed. “No matter what you think, I cannot help Arthur Kirkland.” On cue, the phone rang and Francis quickly picked it up. “Hello, thank you for calling Remote Location. My name is Francis, how may I help you?”

Arthur Kirkland was a helpless cause.

* * *

 

_Oh my God, I slapped Francis Bonnefoy’s arse._

Arthur couldn’t shake the thought from his mind as he made his way up the stairs to the office. _I slapped Francis’ arse. I fucking slapped his arse. What the bloody hell was I thinking?!_ Arthur opened the door that led to the hundreds of cubicles on the tenth floor of the building and slowly walked to his own. _I slapped Francis’ arse. I don’t want to sit next to someone who I’ve just embarrassed myself to!_ Hesitantly, Arthur snuck into his cubicle without Francis noticing. _Perhaps if I’m quiet, he won’t know I’m here._ Behind him, there were plodding steps that moved to Alfred’s cubicle, and the loud _thump_ of him sitting in his plush chair.

“Good morning, Arthur.” Alfred said, disappointed. Arthur did not reply. _If I don’t speak, Francis won’t know I’m here._ He thought, slipping his jacket off and setting it on his chair. “I said, good morning, Arthur!” Alfred repeated, louder. A small laugh came from Matthew’s cubicle; God only knows what for.

“Good morning, Alfred.” Arthur groaned. “I’m not in the best mood right now.”

“That makes two of us.”

That’s odd; Alfred is _always_ in a chipper mood. Did something else happen last night that Arthur could not recall? Though honestly at the moment Arthur didn’t care at all. Today he would do his job and when it came time to leave, he would escape the goddamned office as soon as he possibly could. Luckily, Alfred didn’t speak to him much for the rest of the day. Francis did not speak to him at all. It was almost as if both of them were ignoring the other’s presence entirely. All you had to do was stand up and peer over the wall of the cubicle and yet neither of them did.

When he wasn’t taking calls, Arthur kept his earbuds in and his head low, nose buried in paperwork. He did not stand up to make more tea. In fact, the only time he left his cubicle all day was to use the bathroom. It wasn’t just the embarrassment that caused him to feel the way he did. There was also the fact that he was tired and had a raging headache and was still hungover from the morning. When it came time to finally leave the office, Arthur was relieved.

Going home was more refreshing and comforting than it usually was to Arthur. He greeted Churchill at the door and pet the cat’s head. “‘Ello Church, are you hungry?” Arthur grumbled to his oversized cat as if it understood him as another human. Churchill meowed and nudged Arthur’s hand as he typically did when he wanted to be fed. Arthur went and fed his cat then went to change out of his work clothes for the night. He would not be going out for a very long time. This week would be an at-home week. So would the next week, and the next week. Arthur changed into pajama pants and an old Pink Floyd t-shirt and crashed on his couch for the night. Church curled up with him on the couch and Arthur thought that he should begin to feel better. But for some reason he did not feel better yet. No matter how much tea he could make for himself or no matter how many time listened to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band that night, he was not going to feel any better for a long time. For as long as Francis wouldn’t look at him and Arthur wouldn’t look at Francis, he wouldn’t feel any better. Something had to be done.


	4. Awkward Sober Encounters

Arthur stepped into the office with a sigh; another day spent worrying about running into Francis. It had been several weeks since the two of them even made eye contact since the bar incident; Arthur was too ashamed of himself that he was so drunk to slap someone’s, his _crush’s_ arse. But they were both in their late twenties, grown men who were definitely big enough to solve their own problems. So Arthur decided to write a note the night before and sealed it in an envelope. If the two of them just sat down to discuss about what happened and clear everything up, maybe things would just go back to normal. Not that Arthur _wanted_ to talk to Francis on a regular basis, but he at least wanted to be noticed.

Once the note had been delivered to Francis when he was not at his desk, Arthur was anxiously waiting for the time to come when they would hopefully meet at the coffee shop down the street. Arthur wasn’t sure Francis would actually read the note. He wasn’t even sure Francis would meet him to talk if he really did read the note. Arthur did muster up the courage to go down to the coffee shop at the time he wrote in the note. He ordered tea for himself and sat at a table in the corner. Moments later, a tall and handsome, blond man walked through the door of the coffee shop. Arthur could hear his accent clear across the room as Francis ordered himself a latte and then met his gaze. Arthur quickly looked down at the table, not wanting to look at him directly.

“ _Bonjour_.”

Arthur finally looked up at Francis who was standing over the other side of the table. Francis wasn’t smiling but rather looked as embarrassed as Arthur felt. Arthur gestured for him to sit down and Francis took the seat across from him.

“Hi...erm, thank you. For meeting me here, I mean.” Arthur stumbled over his words as he tried to find a proper way to greet Francis.

“My pleasure.” Francis replied quickly. Then tension had become so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Both kept glancing down into their drinks and glancing up at one another very quickly.

“Look, I wanted to apologize. I acted like a complete-”

“Asshole? Douchebag? Anything is applicable here.” Francis cut him off, immediately wishing his tone had been softer than it had come out. Arthur frowned and wanted to yell something back at him. But he knew that would only make matters worse. Besides, Francis was right. Arthur had acted like a complete idiot and deserved to be called all the things Francis had said.

“Yeah, actually. I did act completely out of line. I’m really sorry, Francis. I don’t know what happened but I just stepped out of line completely and I owe you an apology.” Arthur told him. He was still unable to look Francis directly in the eye as he said this. Arthur heard Francis sigh and could feel eyes watching him.

“It’s okay. I just don’t...I don’t know Arthur. I understand that you were drunk, but it doesn’t make what happened unexcusable. I do not want to make things any worse but I think it’s best that we just leave one another alone for a little while.” Francis muttered. Silence fell over the two and Arthur heard Francis sip his latte and gently set it down in front of him. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

“No.” Arthur quickly mumbled, not bothering to look up. “All I can say is sorry. I just...I just wanted to be...I wanted to be like you guys, for once.” Francis raised his eyebrows, folding his hands in front of him. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I’m pretty introverted, and I’ve isolated myself so much from others that I can’t even behave normally when I’m with a group. I don’t why I agreed to join you three to the bar when I did, but I just…”

“I understand.” Francis interrupted, gently. “But, I still don’t--”

“Francis,” Arthur murmured. “I can’t stop beating myself up for what I did. Hell, I can’t stop beating myself up for who I am. I’m an awful person, Francis.” Francis chuckled, nervously.

“Don’t beat yourself up too much, _mon ami_ ; it was only a butt tap, afterall.” he reassured, leaning forward a bit. “Though I’m still very angry at you, I’m glad you took the first step to apologizing. Then again, I thought you didn’t remember anything that occurred that night.” The Frenchman paused. “The butt slap _is_ the only thing you remember, _oui_?” Arthur swallowed and looked over to the display glass of pastries.

“I tried to unbutton your shirt. That’s it.” Arthur answered, still avoiding eye contact. “I made a complete fool of myself, and I’m sorry, Francis.” There was silence once again, aside from the chit-chat echoing throughout the store from the other customers. Suddenly, Arthur felt a small tap on his hand and glanced up to see Francis smiling at him.

“Apology accepted,” he said, not breaking his smile. “I’m still mad, but, I know you have a lot to get off of your chest. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.” With that, he nodded and pushed out his chair. Shocked, Arthur watched the graceful Frenchman walk out of the cafe, Francis’ cell number written on a piece of scrap paper underneath his palm.

* * *

 

Francis slammed the door behind him and hurried to his bedroom, flopping onto his bed. He felt bad for Arthur, he truly did; Arthur was lonely. So lonely that he didn’t even know how to socialize anymore. At least, though, Arthur was trying again, only because had the biggest schoolgirl crush on Francis. Francis wanted to hate Arthur for being a complete jerk, but at the same time, he liked him. It nearly bored him to ignore Arthur for weeks on end, but he simply did not want to bring the subject up. Francis found Arthur an interesting man, and though Arthur was a mess, he wanted to help him admit to himself who he really was. What Arthur really needed was a friend, not a “shipping” lunatic like Alfred.

As he laid down on his bed, Francis heard a knock on the front door. He groaned as he pushed himself off of the bed and slowly walked over to the door, opening it slightly. “Francis!” He heard a female voice cheerfully greet him. He looked up to see Carmen, the beautiful, sensuous Spanish woman who lived down the hall standing before him. She had a bright smile on her face as she pulled Francis in for a kiss on the cheek. “How are you, _mi amigo_? It’s been awhile since we spent some time together!” Francis couldn’t help but smile as he stepped aside and Carmen walked in. “Are you still working at that boring help desk?”

“Unfortunately.” Francis answered, closing the door. He sat beside her on the couch, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Carmen shook her head, laughing.

“When are you going to quit that job and actually pursue cooking?” she teased. “You’ve always wanted to be a chef, _sí_? Go and pursue your dreams!” Francis chuckled.

“There’s a difference between having a stable job and pursuing your dreams, Carmen.” he muttered. “How have you been, my dear? How’s the fashion designing business?” Carmen shrugged.

“Oh you know, same old stuff, different day. I have to sew a wedding dress…” Her voice trailed off as she let out a long sigh, resting her head against Francis’ shoulder. “Another bridezilla.” Carmen added, rolling her eyes. “You know how much I _love_ their business.” Francis laughed.

“It makes you question if you want to keep the job or not, doesn’t it?” he teased. Carmen nodded quickly and sat on the edge of the couch, turning to Francis.

“I’m hungry. How do you feel about going to the restaurant down the street? My treat!” Carmen offered, gently placing her hand on his knee.

“Sounds good,” Francis agreed, rising to his feet. “Except, I’m not sure if I’d be willing to let you pay for my dinner, Carmen. I’ll pay this time.” Carmen stood up as well and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, frowning.

“No, no, you always pay for dinner when we’re out. It’s my turn! I have to pay you back, regardless.” she argued, crossing her arms. Francis chuckled as he grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on. He gave Carmen a smug grin as he opened the door and stepped aside.

“It’s rude for a man not to pay for dinner, _mon amour_.” he said, watching her step out of the apartment. He followed behind her and the two walked down the staircase that led them outside. The restaurant was only a block away from the complex; Carmen linked her arm with Francis’ and rested her head on his shoulder once again. They walked at a casual pace, Francis being mindful not to make his footsteps any larger than hers, he was taller than her after all. When they turned the corner, Carmen sighed.

“Francis, I think I need your advice for something.” she said. Francis raised his eyebrows.

“Hmm, what’s that, my dear?” he replied.

“We’ve been friends for a while now, haven’t we?” she continued. Her arm slid down and she wrapped her fingers around Francis’ hand. “I sometimes can’t help but think that we could have something more than friendship.”

“Aren’t we already more than friends?” Francis teased. “What’s it called in English? ‘Friends with Benefits’?” Carmen teasingly slapped his shoulder.

“That doesn’t count; in my book at least. What I mean is that we have some sort of connection, chemistry; like in all those silly romance novels.” she added. She giggled at herself. “Maybe it’s the love-sick, teenaged girl in me, but, I dunno; what do you think, Francis? Do you feel the same as I do?” Francis hesitated and bit his bottom lip; he did love Carmen very much. When they first met when the Frenchman moved in, they hit it off right away. Carmen introduced herself and gave him a small container filled with homemade churros. Carmen visited Francis’ apartment frequently after that; the two often having dinner or watching movies or even something _more_ , if they were _that_ desperate. For whatever reason, Carmen and Francis had an extremely platonic and close relationship from the start. And if Carmen really like Francis, she did a very nice job at hiding it (unlike a certain Englishman Francis knew). That, or Francis felt the same way about Carmen.

“Francis?” Carmen asked, stopping in her tracks. “Did I say something wrong?” Francis blinked out of his train of thought and smiled.

“No, you did nothing wrong,” he replied. He pulled his hand away from hers and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “I agree with you, Carmen; there certainly is something the two of us share. So, what do you think this makes us, hmm?” Carmen’s smile brightened as she leaned in for a quick kiss.

“I think,” she whispered. “This makes us in a very special relationship, _mi amor_.”

* * *

 

“What do you think I should do, Church?”

Arthur sat on the far right side of the couch, legs crossed and hands in his lap as he stared at his cat, who sat across from him. Between the two of them was the scrap of paper with Francis’ cell phone number written neatly on it. Church yawned and licked his paw, rubbing it over his face. “Should I call him? I mean, he gave me his number for a reason, right?” Arthur muttered. He scratched his chin and sighed. “Or maybe he’s mocking me, knowing that I don’t have the balls to call him?” Church meowed and began pawing the scrap of paper until it fluttered off the couch. Arthur chuckled. “So you think I should ignore it, huh? That’s certainly not out of order here…” The cat stood up and stretched before slowly walking over and sitting in Arthur’s lap. Church rested his head on Arthur’s knee and closed his eyes, purring. “You’re terrible at advice, Church.” Arthur sighed, leaning back against the armrest.

The clock’s minute hand struck the hour and as the clock began to sing, Arthur stood up, being sure not to wake Church and wandered into his bedroom. He had grabbed the small piece of paper and placed it beside his cell phone, which was on the night stand. It was nearly ten o'clock; he was certain Francis had other plans with more important people by now. He wouldn’t be expecting a phone call from a lonely man, despite the fact that he had given him his number. To be honest, Arthur had no idea in the slightest why Francis had given him his number. Francis had no reason to, and Arthur had no reason to call him. Unless Francis enjoyed the idea of Arthur beating himself up for not knowing if he should call the man he admired or not. Arthur gently placed the cat onto his bed and flopped onto the plush mattress.

“Maybe I should call him, Church. He must be expecting _something_.” he muttered. “Even if he doesn’t pick up, I can just leave a message.” Church rolled onto his back and purred. Arthur sighed and rubbed the cat’s belly, smiling. “Yeah, I think I’ll leave a message.” He stretched towards his bedside table and grabbed his cell phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Arthur likes to have many conversations with his cat. He is too lonesome. 
> 
> -Katelyn (violinia)


	5. I Slept With a Protagonist and All I Got Was This Stupid Chapter Written About Me

It was a Wednesday afternoon and Arthur sat at his desk answering a call. The man on the other line seemed to be about 80 years old and would be far better off looking into retirement homes than purchasing a new TV remote. Arthur sighed softly as the old man rattled into his ear about wanting to purchase a new television.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t sell televisions here. You’re going to have to have to call our other department if you’re interested in buying a new television.” Arthur explained slowly to the confused man on the other line. There was a pause as the old man continued to complain to Arthur. “Sir, I’m well aware you’ve seen our advertisements, but I can’t help you with this. Would you like me to give you the number to call the correct department?” There was another pause. “Okay, the number is one-six zero-- sir, I’m sorry you can’t understand my accent. No...no, I’m not on Downton Abbey! Sir, I work for a TV remote company.” After a few more minutes of this, Arthur was able to give the old man the correct phone number and the phone call was finished. He sat back in his swivel chair and ran a hand through his hair. People were just so difficult to deal with these days.

“Hey, dude!”

Sometimes the most difficult people to deal with weren’t even the customers.

“‘Hello Alfred…” Arthur sighed, not even looking at his bright and bubbly co-worker. Alfred wheeled his chair right up next to Arthur’s side and into his cubicle. There was hardly enough room for one person in the cubicle; having two chairs in one cubicle was too much. Arthur tried to shove Alfred over, but the heavy man wouldn’t move.

“How’ve you been? I heard you and Franny made out-sorry, I mean, made up.” Alfred gave an obnoxious laugh, thinking his joke was oh-so-clever and funny.

Arthur frowned. “Yes, I suppose we did make up...by the way you’ve got a ketchup stain on your shirt. When was the last time you did laundry?”Alfred looked down at the small red stain on his shirt right around his chest area and shrugged.

“It’s not that noticeable, and I did laundry yesterday. See, responsible adult right here.” He gave Arthur a goofy smile and a double thumbs-up. Arthur just rolled his eyes and reached over to grab his headphones. Hopefully Alfred would get the message that he didn’t want to talk. But of course, Alfred just kept chattering away. His breath smelled like the Dunkin Donuts coffee and pastry that was currently sitting on his desk.

“Look, Alfred, I’d love to chat but I’m going to go make another cup of tea.” Arthur told him. Without waiting for Alfred to reply, Arthur squeezed out of the cramped cubicle and began to make his way towards the break room.

When he passed Francis’ desk, Arthur heard nothing. That was odd. There was always sound coming from Francis’ desk; whether it be him taking a phone call or flirting aimlessly with another cute intern. But there was nobody there and no sound. Arthur was being stupid to be so concerned about Francis now. He was a grown man, not a 13 year old girl. Arthur just shook his head at himself and continued on to the break room. He was about to walk into the room when he heard that voice that the cubicles were lacking. It was Francis. Arthur felt his grip tighten on his TARDIS mug as he heard Francis speaking to somebody on the phone. He turned around and pressed his back to the wall outside the break room so that Francis couldn’t see him. Arthur wouldn’t call it eavesdropping...he was just being polite so that Francis could take his phone call alone yet perfectly in earshot of Arthur. What had his life come to?

“Tonight? I don’t know if Gil is free...I’ll have to check with him.” Francis said. There was then a pause as the person on the other line spoke. Francis chuckled at whatever they had said and grinned to himself.

“You know how I love that...yes, I promise. I’ll pick you up at 7. You like carnations, right? Perfect...I’ll see you then, _mon amour_.” Francis said with another laugh and hung up his phone. Arthur felt his heart sink in his chest. Francis was going on a date tonight with somebody he obviously had feelings for. Well, more feelings than he had for Arthur. He didn’t blame Francis. Arthur was being awkward and terrible and Francis didn’t need a burden like him in his life. It was really no surprise that Francis had a partner or a lover. Francis could quite literally have anyone he wanted, and he obviously didn’t want Arthur. Arthur rubbed his temples and then took a few steps back. He began to walk into the break room, making it seem like he hadn’t been rudely eavesdropping only moments before.

“Ah, _bonjour_ Arthur.” Francis greeted him and gave him a friendly smile. He was trying to be nonchalant and friendly now. Arthur supposed this was for the best that they remained neutral with one another.

“Hi.” Arthur nodded with this laconic and embarrassingly brief reply.

Francis finished pouring himself another cup of coffee and looked to Arthur as if he wanted to say something else. However, Francis couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t give him a reply of ‘fuck off, frog.’ He took a step closer and carefully set his coffee mug down on the counter. “Is everything alright, _mon ami_?” Francis asked, leaning against the counter slightly. Arthur shot a glance at him, seeing him tilting his head to the side in a cute manner, and shrugged casually.

“What is there to say?” he asked, picking up his cup and walking past Francis, only to be stop with a gentle touch on his arm.

“You haven’t been yourself since our meeting, Arthur. Come on, tell me, what’s wrong?” Francis urged. Arthur was tempted to turn around and shout at Francis; to take his cup of coffee and dump it on the floor. “ _Who is he? Why do you like him more than me? I get that I’m a bit of a twat, but that doesn’t me I’m interesting either!”_ Was all Arthur wanted to scream in Francis’ face. Though, he had no right to do any of those things. He had to play the part he was given; he had to behave like a good little boy and be happy that the person he adored was with someone who made him happier. So, he shrugged Francis’ hand away and stepped out of the break room. Francis didn’t need to know, after all.

Arthur continued his way back to his cubicle, ignoring Francis’ previous question. From now on, the Englishman had to do his best to forget his admiration towards Francis; it was for the best, anyways. But, the man was just so bloody _gorgeous_ , and it was impossible to ignore him. As he took a seat into his chair, he heard footsteps behind him come to a halt and a long sigh.

“Arthur,” Francis said, gently. “How about I give you a proposition here; would like to join me and a few friends for dinner?” Arthur turned his chair and looked up at Francis. Francis offered him a smile, looking sincere in his rare offer of friendship.

“Fine...but please don’t make me drink.” Arthur sighed. A triumphant grin crossed Francis’ face.

“No, of course you don’t have to drink! Just join us tonight and I promise it will be a better time than the last. Alfred is not invited, I promise.” Arthur just nodded and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Alright, frog. I’m sorry, again, for everything.” Arthur apologized once more.

“It’s alright. I understand but I can’t say you are forgiven. Let’s just see about tonight, okay? My friends are very nice people and they will love you.  If you need anything just ask me.” Francis told him. He gave Arthur the address of the restaurant on a sticky note and then gave him a little wink as he walked away to his own cubicle. Arthur looked at the little sticky note and something on it caught his eye. Along with the address of the place, Francis had also written: _7 o’clock tonight, don’t be late!! <3 _Arthur frowned at the sticky note in his hand and thought back to the conversation he overheard earlier. Francis had a date tonight. Was he inviting Arthur on his date? Arthur didn’t know what exactly was going on, but he figured he would find out later. Tonight he would meet Francis’ boyfriend.

* * *

 

Sharp dressed in his work clothes, Arthur arrived at the restaurant at exactly seven o’clock. He walked into the place with his hands in his pockets and his chin high as he searched for where Francis might be seated with his carnation-loving boyfriend. Francis was not there yet, however, his friends were all there. They were a group of three that took up half of a large booth. The friends consisted of two men and a woman. One of the men, a humourous looking fellow with bleached white hair, sat with his arm around the woman. The woman looked the most calm and adult-like out of all of them. She sat between the men with a glass of wine in her hand and was the first to see Arthur walk in. The final friend was a small and bubbly little man who Arthur could hear chattering away from across the restaurant. 

Francis must have told them about Arthur. For when they saw him, Arthur was immediately greeted with hugs and kisses and introductions. The woman was Elizabeta, and the white haired man was her boyfriend Gilbert who Arthur assumed was ‘Gil’ from the phone call. The other man who looked barely a man at all was named Feliciano. He was Italian and very cute and immediately started hanging all over Arthur. Arthur took off his coat and sat down beside Feliciano and they continued their talk about whatever they were discussing before.

Truthfully, Arthur didn’t care much about what they were talking about. He ordered himself a glass of water and nodded along and laughed at the appropriate times. He kept an eye on the door, watching for Francis to come save him from being alone with these random people he had only known for a minute. As if the world heard his prayers, the door to the restaurant opened moments later. Francis tumbled into the place looking ruffled and angelic. On his arm was a gorgeous woman who easily could’ve stepped out of a Victoria’s Secret catalog. Arthur’s jaw nearly dropped when he saw them. Francis didn’t have a boyfriend, he had a _girlfriend_.

Francis and his girlfriend waltzed over to their booth like the original prom king and queen, as if they were the ones to create romance at the beginning of time and carve sex into stone. The couple greeted everyone with hugs and kisses all around and Francis made sure to give Arthur a reassuring handshake. Once they were all settled, they began to introduce each other and make small talk.

“Arthur, I’m glad you could make it. I see you’ve met my wonderful friends already. Oh, and this is Carmen, my girlfriend.” Francis told him. Arthur looked to Carmen who gave him a flirty wink and smile that could blind.

“Nice to meet you, Carmen.” Arthur introduced himself politely and stuck his hand out to shake her hand. Carmen laughed a tremendous laugh and grabbed Arthur’s hand. She pulled him across the table to kiss his cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain that reminded Arthur of a drunk and disliked aunt at Christmas time.

“You’re so cute! And you’re English...Francis, _mi amor,_ you never told me he was English!” she said, much too cheerfully. Carmen herself was Spanish; not Latina, for she was from Spain. She had beautiful dark brown curls that fell around her face and bright lipstick that was slightly intimidating. He could see why Francis took a liking to her; she was just as flirtatious and charismatic as Francis himself. Francis was obviously in a good mood tonight. He had Carmen practically sitting on his lap and hanging all over him like the happy fools they were. Francis looked wonderful that night as well. He changed out of his work clothes and into a white button down and dark jeans with a red leather jacket over it. He looked like a complete douchebag, especially in the Doc Martens he wore with it. He was infuriating and Arthur looked away from him and into his water glass.

“So, Arthur, you work with Francis?” Feliciano asked, trying to spark conversation between the two of them. Arthur looked to Feliciano and was thankful for the distraction.

“Yes, we do. We work in customer service together.” Arthur replied. Feliciano nodded and smiled even though Arthur doubted he even cared. Each bit of the table was now preoccupied in their own little conversations at the moment. Gilbert and Elizabeta seemed to be arguing over something on the menu. Francis and Carmen were currently preoccupied playing footsies under the table.

“That’s nice! Francis is a good guy, you know? I think he likes you. We haven’t invited another friend to dinner in a while.” Feliciano told him and took a sip of his wine. Arthur glanced over to Francis who was now talking about something with Elizabeta and Gilbert.

“I suppose so...he’s an alright guy.” Arthur shrugged.

“Enough about Francis, what about you?” Feliciano began, eager. Before long, Arthur was pulled into a seemingly endless conversation with Feliciano. The cheerful little man seemed as if he could talk for hours. He didn’t even stop talking when their food came. The man was most certainly a chatterbox. Arthur just ate the dinner he ordered and pretended to care about what Feliciano was talking about. He kept looking at Francis with his arm around Carmen and tried as hard as he could not to be jealous. There wasn’t any reason for Arthur to be jealous anyway. Francis and Carmen were happy together and Arthur was nothing more than an acquaintance to his handsome co-worker. Dinner went by quickly; Gilbert gave Arthur a hard time for not having anything to drink but Arthur brushed him off.

“Come on, now, you must want at least one drink, Arthur!” Gilbert pestered, a crooked grin on his lips. Francis came to the rescue and fought on Arthur’s side for keeping him sober.

“He doesn’t want to drink, Gil.” Francis said simply yet forcefully. Gilbert took his word and didn’t pester Arthur for the rest of the time. Things with dinner began to wind down and the conversation had molded into one including the entire table. Half were drunk and half were tipsy and then there was Arthur who had drank at least 5 glasses of water and desperately needed to pee.

“I-I don’t know...I’ve just been going through a tough time lately. Ever since Ludwig and I broke up it’s just been difficult for me.” Feliciano told the entire table and they all leaned in closer to console him. He hung his head low, his arms crossed and elbows on the table. Apparently he had just recently broken up with his boyfriend, who also happened to be Gilbert’s younger brother. “He said he needs space but...whenever someone claims they need space, that’s the end of it, right?” Arthur felt for Feliciano; though he didn’t particularly show it, the poor guy was brokenhearted. Perhaps that was why he seemed persistent in to asking Arthur cordial questions.

“It’s okay, Feli. Breakups are so difficult. But you know what? There are plenty of men out there. Take Arthur, for example. You’re single, right Arthur?” Francis asked, his smooth voice drawing across the table with a strange sense of elegance. Arthur frowned and knit his eyebrows together as he shot a glare at Francis.

“Yes, I am single.” he replied. He didn’t know what Francis was trying to do but he didn’t want it at all.

“See, Feli, Arthur here is very cute and very single. What do you say you two give it a try, hm?” Francis said with a cheery laugh. At first, Arthur couldn’t tell whether he was serious or not. Only weeks ago Francis was harping about how Alfred shouldn’t have been pushing him into relationships or forcing his sexuality. But Francis seemed perfectly serious in this ridiculousness about him and Feliciano. Arthur jumped up from the table and tossed his napkin on the table.

“God, what the fuck Francis…?!” he huffed angrily and began to walk away from the table. Carmen gasped, taken back at Arthur’s sudden vulgar language. As he began to storm off, he heard Francis get up from the table and run to get him to rejoin the table.

“Arthur! I’m sorry! I wasn’t serious, I’m sorry!” Francis called. Arthur turned around and gave Francis a nearly deadly glare.

“Shut the fuck up, Francis! This was all to just set me up with somebody, wasn’t it?! To get me off your back?! Well I hate to break it to you but I’m not fucking interested anymore! Why the hell would I even want an arrogant twat like you anyway?!” With that, Arthur stormed out of the restaurant, leaving Francis and his friends behind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting a bit messy, does anyone have a napkin to help clean it up? Jk more like you need a vacuum cleaner for this insanity. 
> 
> -Katelyn (violinia)
> 
> Sorry we haven't updated in a week or so! We hope you're enjoying this mess of a story if you are following it. In case you didn't know already, Carmen is Fem!Spain just an fyi to anyone confused. And yes, the title of this chapter is play off of a Fall Out Boy song.   
> \- Emily (shutthefrukup <3)


	6. Confused Desperation

Feliciano Vargas was small and sort of plump and was a very good kisser. Arthur, however, was an embarrassing mess of bones and teeth and hadn’t really kissed anybody in quite a long time. The little Italian man lay in an awkward position underneath Arthur who was really just trying his best. His shirt was pulled off and thrown to the floor and the two continued to kiss like the love-starved children they were. What had happened? Well after Arthur’s grand exit at the restaurant, Feliciano followed him outside to apologize. He apologized for Francis’ behavior and Arthur forgave him. Feliciano himself hadn’t done anything wrong. It had all been the fault of that stupid frog who was now probably back at his apartment with Carmen and giving her something better than Arthur ever could give to Feliciano. But one thing led to another and Arthur (partly out of desperation and partly out of jealousy) had taken Feliciano home.

His shirt was off and he felt his heart beating quicker. Honestly, Arthur was nervous. Was he a good kisser? Probably not. Was this going to go well? Probably not. Would Feliciano ever speak to him again after this? Three times the charm. Arthur, hands shaking, was about to start awkwardly pulling off their pants when he pulled away from his failed one-night stand.

“I’m sorry, Feliciano, I can’t.” Arthur said, taking a deep breath. He rolled to his side to sit up and hang his legs over the side of the bed. Feliciano did the same and sat next to him.

“No, it’s okay, I have a condom if y-”

“No, it’s not that. I’m sorry but I just don’t think we should do this. You love Lawrence, or whatever the hell is name is. The point is that we’re both thinking about different people tonight and this just isn’t going to work out.”

Feliciano laughed once, short and somewhat bitter. “Ludwig...he doesn’t want me. He says he needs space but I don’t know what to do anymore…” Arthur gave him a light pat on the back and tried his best to be comforting. Feliciano was looking down at his feet, his eyes big and sad. Both of them liked people that they thought the world of, and those people were only remotely interested.

“You’ll be alright, mate. I think you and Ludwig need to just have a rational talk and I’m sure you’ll figure things out. If he really loves you back, which I’m sure he does, then he’ll take you back. And I know that people need their space sometimes so we have to respect that. But I know that things will get better with the two of you. Really, I’ve got a good feeling about you two.” Feliciano looked up at Arthur with a sad sort of smile. He hoped his words of encouragement worked. He was certainly no expert on the topic of love and relationships, but hopefully this had at least cheered up Feliciano a little bit.

“Thank you Arthur. I’m sorry that this happened, I just needed somebody to talk to, you know?” Feliciano said. Arthur bit back his comment about how the little man talked incessantly anyway and could probably just talk to a brick wall about his problems.

“Well if you need anything, just call me and we can chat. No romantics involved whatsoever.” Arthur offered him. He felt strangely kind that night. Normally he wouldn’t offer his friendship so loosely but it seemed as if all his friends were gone anyway. Arthur didn’t even have his favorite worst enemy anymore, thus pitying both himself and Feliciano at the same time.

“And the same to you! I know you’ve got a thing for Francis. I mean, you kept looking at him like he was the second coming!” Feliciano laughed, “But I know it’s hard and I’m sorry that things happened like this. Give me a call sometime if you want.” He stood up off the bed and put his shirt back on.

Arthur wanted to argue that he didn’t like Francis. Unfortunately, he couldn’t really think of any part of that to argue with. “Thank you Feli...I’m sorry it happened like this as well and I’ll be sure to give you call.” This was a false promise. Arthur would never give Feliciano a call and would feel guilty about it until he lost the memory. They said one more brief goodbye and then Feliciano slipped his shoes back on and zipped up his pants. Arthur walked him out  to bid him farewell for the evening. The little Italian man left and Arthur hung in the doorway, barechested and barefooted, looking out into the romantic autumn night.

* * *

 

“Smoke?” Carmen asked, offering Francis a cigarette. The two of them sat up in bed together; both naked and tired and philosophical at that dead time of night. Francis shook his head at the offer and slid his hand down her waist to hold her more comfortably.  

“I’m trying to quit.” Francis told her. Carmen nodded and tossed the pack carefully on to the bedside table. It was nice how she wouldn’t smoke with him around anymore. Francis nuzzled into her shoulder and kissed her gently at the base of her neck. “I’m sorry about tonight.” He whispered.

“It was just misunderstanding, _mi amor_. The two of you are both to blame. What really happened anyway?” Carmen asked him. She closed her eyes and lay back on his chest.

“Arthur is lonely and I thought he could use a nice date with somebody new. I just feel bad because people from work are always bothering him about his love life and his sexulaity. He’s so sensitive too. I mean, he is almost as sexually confused as I was when I was fifteen.” Francis chuckled. Carmen broke into a little laugh as well and shifted her legs around Francis’.

“I feel bad for the poor man. He seemed so awkward at dinner too. This kind of was your fault, Francis. You knew better than to try and set him and Feli up.” Francis sighed at this and shook his head at himself.

“I know, I know. It was stupid of me to do. Now Arthur is mad at me and I just want to help him out.” Francis told her. He was not going to tell Carmen about how Arthur was also pathetically in love with him. That would just make everything worse.

“I know you want to help him out, but maybe he just needs to work things out for himself. Give him a little space. He might need it.” Carmen told him, snuggling up closer to Francis and relaxing against him. “I’m sure it will be just fine…” She yawned as her eyes fluttered and closed.

“I hope so…” Francis sighed heavily and let her rest against him. Francis lay down with her, hearing her fall asleep. Francis couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. Everything was so messed up. Arthur was mad at him now and here he was pretending that everything would be fine. Nothing was going to be fine. Francis was exhausted by the past month or so of the two men being angry with one another. All he wanted was for things to go back to normal. He wished he had never invited Arthur out to drink. Maybe if they hadn’t gone out then everything would be the same. Arthur and Francis would pass each other’s desk and tease one another about their clothes or their hair or what music the other was listening to. They would fight over the empty space in the refrigerator in the break room and argue during floor meetings. But that was gone now and replaced by real anger. Now there would barely be comments made and silence would greet Francis when he arrived at work on Monday.

 


	7. When Did We Become a Taylor Swift Song?

Arthur went into work on Monday grumpy as an old housecat. He had his mug full of hot tea and was wearing his favorite tie. Despite these comforting little tidbits of life, Arthur was still grumpy. Often times he and Churchill the cat had more in common than he thought before. One was fat and the other was skinny but both wore the same grumpy look on their face as they went about their day. In all truthfulness, Arthur wished to be a cat at the moment. He could just sleep in a sunny spot all day and never have a care in the world. Unfortunately there was a job to be done that day in customer service and customer service was no place for a fat housecat.

The grumpy and displeased Englishman sat down at his cubicle and set his tea mug down beside a thin stack of papers that needed seeing to. He pulled his headphones down over one ear and turned on his music. It wasn’t long after settling in for the morning before Arthur heard the man who worked next to him come barging into his own cubicle. He heard Alfred settle into his own chair and the crumpling of a paper bag. The paper bag was probably his typical breakfast from Dunkin Donuts. It consisted of a sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich and a large coffee. Sometimes there was a donut to be saved in the break room refrigerator as an afternoon snack. But for now, Arthur heard his colleague tear into his breakfast sandwich and then wheel his chair over to Arthur’s cubicle.

“Hey dude, what’s up? How was your weekend?” Alfred asked.

“Fine, I suppose-” Arthur began only to get cut off.

“I have the fuckin’ funniest video to show you, man! It’s called insane wipeout and it’s like this guy who’s tryin’ to do a backflip on a motorcycle and he totally wipes out and almost gets his head taken clean off! You’ve gotta see this!” Alfred blabbered. He reached across the desk and stole Arthur’s laptop. Arthur began to protest angrily but was instantly shushed. Might as well just see what the video was anyway. Only a complete moron could find anything like ‘insane wipeouts’ the least bit amusing.

Alfred pulled up the video and cackled at it. It truly was quite alarming how people were so quick to jump for internet fame these days. Thus they resorted to idiotic antics such as backflipping over razor blades and pits of fires on motorized vehicles. Arthur watched the video quite unamused as Alfred cackled at the pure idiocy.

“Oh my god, Artie! Did you see that?! Shit, bro!” He cried, slapping Arthur very hard  in where he assumed was Arthur’s stomach. It was not Arthur’s stomach, but rather his crotch. Arthur immediately doubled over in his chair and groaned.

“Aw, dude did I really hit you that hard?” Alfred laughed. Arthur glared up at him with both pain and anger written on his face.

“Yes! Yes you did hit me quite hard in the balls, thanks for asking!” Arthur whispered violently as to convey both anger and secrecy at the same time. Alfred just continued to laugh at him and wheeled back over to his desk, leaving his co-worker to sit at his desk awkwardly clutching his balls. It was also the perfect time for Francis to arrive at work. He was fashionably late, as he was to everything, and slowed to a stop when he saw Arthur.

“Are you alright?” Francis asked, not even making an effort to contain his laughter. Arthur scowled up at him and sat up in his chair normally.

“Piss off, would you?” he hissed. Francis chuckled at him and took a step to the other side of him.

“Whatever you say…” Francis trailed off and laughed again. He hurried to the other side where his cubicle was before Arthur really got mad. Francis was already in hot water with him and making fun of him wasn’t going to help much at all. Or maybe it could be for the best that they try to regain their relationship like before.

Of course the day went by and there was not much interaction between Arthur and Francis. They both stayed quiet and took their phone calls. There was barely a word spoken to each other for the rest of the day. That is until Arthur arrived home at night and his cell phone began to ring. It was Francis. He was tempted for a moment to just ignore the call. But something possessed him to take the call.

“‘Ello?” he answered, his voice sounding particularly English and pissed off.

“Can I come over?” Francis’ voice spoke hurriedly from the other line. For a brief second Arthur wondered if this was what he sounded like to customers when he took phone calls all day. Then he registered the question and frowned to himself.

“No, what the bloody hell do need to come over here for?” Arthur barked into the phone. He took off his tie with one hand and draped it over a chair in the kitchen and then sat down.

“Because we need to talk and I’ve never been to your apartment before. Well, besides that one time I drove you home. But seriously, we need to talk.” Francis said. He was acting strange today and Arthur didn’t like it. He didn’t want to talk to Francis anyway. That stupid man would just come over to his apartment and act like the self-entitled asshole that he was and then leave within minutes.

“No. Fuck off. I don’t want you over here.” Arthur replied with edge and ice to his voice. He really didn’t want to talk to Francis again after the restaurant incident. The knowledge of his failed sexual escapade with Feliciano would also make things uncomfortable. Arthur heard Francis sigh on the other line.

“I’m not going to let us avoid this like last time. I’ll be over in a half hour.” Francis told him.

“What the hell? Francis, you can’t just invite yourself over!” Arthur began to rant at Francis about his poor manners and rude behavior and how he wasn’t trying to avoid it. But Francis had already hung up. Arthur huffed exasperatedly and stood up from the chair. Francis or not, he was going to go about his business as normal. If Francis showed up, he would not let him in. Simple as that.

Arthur undressed and took a quick shower then got into his pajamas. He couldn’t cook anything besides toast, which he burned. Fortunately there was a wonderful Thai food takeout place around the corner. So his night was very normal as it usually was. He was all sunken into the couch watching some awful documentary about penguins, takeout container balanced on his lap. That’s when there was knock on his apartment door. Arthur groaned and rolled off the couch. He slid his feet into his slippers and went to go answer the door. Sure enough, Francis Bonnefoy stood at his doorstep looking annoyingly handsome.

“Fuck off.” Arthur said bluntly and moved as if he were to shut the door in Francis’ face. Francis stepped inside quickly before the door closed in his face and offered Arthur a weak smile.

“I want to talk...and apologize.” Francis said, reaching up to fix a stray strand of his hair. Arthur just continued to glare at Francis in an angry and slightly threatening manner.

“You do owe me an apology for trying to set me up when I actually specifically told you not to do that. You’re such an insufferable twat, you know that? Think you can go around playing primary school match-maker? Do you, you fucking wanker?” Arthur began to rattle off angrily at Francis who was now nearly cowering against the wall. Arthur knew he could get frightening when very angry and that was exactly what he wanted to do. Francis deserved it this time.

“Okay, okay! No need to get all English on me! I’m sorry for setting you up with Feliciano! The two of you are just so lonely and desperate and I-” Francis began.

“You what? Think I’m so desperate that I’ll just shag any random guy I meet? Oh poor Arthur Kirkland is so sad and lonely that he’ll take anyone home? Go fuck yourself, Francis!” Arthur roared, his face heating up and his fists balling with rage.

Francis was now becoming just as furious. He stepped away from the wall and got right up into Arthur’s face. “But you did take him home. Didn’t you? You tried but it didn’t work because you can’t stop thinking about me, can you? When Feliciano took your clothes off, I bet you wished it was me! When he kissed you? That was me too, right? So don’t go telling me to go fuck myself when you just jerked off to thought of me doing it for you!”

Both were speechless for a moment, unable to form coherent sentences out of pure rage at one another. Arthur’s face was bright red and the vein in his neck was popping out. Francis was red-faced as well but had his fist balled up in Arthur’s shirt, ready to punch him. Both were at each other’s throat with knives in hand. Ready to fight, ready to hurt. That was when Francis grabbed Arthur’s shirt collar with his other hand and practically smashed their mouths together. Arthur didn’t think at all about what was happening. All he could process was Francis’ lips on his and his hands balled up against Arthur’s chest. Francis kissed him with nothing but fire and anger; hard and violent and messy. When they broke apart, there was a moment of heavy breathing and silence. Then Arthur raised his hand and slapped Francis’ across the face. Francis  reacted instantly and raised his hand to his cheek, wincing with pain. That was going to leave a mark for the next day.

“Get the hell out of my apartment.” Arthur snarled.

Francis just gulped and nodded. He left Arthur like that and hurried off into the evening with anger still bubbling in the pit of his stomach and a murderous kiss still lingering on his lips.

* * *

 

As Francis climbed into his car, he ran his hands through his hair and let out a long, frustrated sigh. _Why the hell did I do that?! I have a_ girlfriend _, for Christ’s sake!_ he thought to himself. He leaned against the steering wheel and shook his head. “What on earth do I say to Carmen?” he muttered, turning the key in the ignition. “Do I even say anything at all?” Francis felt terrible; he had just begun this relationship with Carmen, _beautiful_ Carmen, and he was already messing things up. There was no reason for him to kiss Arthur either; he had been caught up in the moment and sometimes you just have to...release the tension. But Carmen, _sweet_ Carmen, didn’t deserve this. Neither did Arthur.

Soon arriving into the parking lot of his apartment complex, Francis slowly walked up the stairs to his apartment. He felt like he should mention something; that was the more dignified thing to do, correct? Though, Carmen would most certainly leave him right away if he couldn’t even keep his eyes on her for a week. Francis had never done this before; he was always respectful to his partner, whomever he was dating at the time. So why change now? And why Arthur, _Arthur Kirkland_ of all people?

“There you are, _mi amor_!” Carmen cheered. She was wearing a short red dress along with her favorite red lipstick. “I was wondering when you were going to be back! I was worried I was going to be all alone tonight.” She stuck out her bottom lip as she pretended to pout and planted a kiss on Francis’ cheek. “I have the best surprise waiting for you in my apartment; would you like to see?” There was a flirtatious tone in her voice as she gently led Francis down the hallway. Francis smirked to himself. _I love surprises._ He thought as Carmen unlocked the door.

“Is this little red dress apart of it?” he asked, playing along. Carmen giggled and slammed the door shut, pulling Francis in for an intense kiss.

“Of course it is,” she answered when they pulled away from each other. “I know how much you love my special little outfits.” She paused, peeling Francis’ jacket off of his shoulders. “You seem tense; _mi amor_ , what’s wrong?” Francis sighed and cradled Carmen’s jaw with the palm of his hand.

“I did something awful, Carmen, and I don’t think I can fix it. Not this time.” he replied, softly. Carmen frowned.

“Are you still upset about what happened with Arthur the other day?” she asked, leaning forward a bit. “Oh, Francis, you worry too much! Feliciano forgave you! Though, he’s very quick to forgive people and run back to them.” Francis’ eyes lit up slightly.

“Did he and Ludwig get back together?” he questioned. Carmen shrugged.

“I don’t know, I sure hope so. Feliciano is such a happy spirit; I hate to see him so depressed.” she said. “But that’s not the point; I’m sure if you give Arthur some time, he will forgive you. He’s just a very bitter man who only needs a little love to warm his heart. That and he’s English.” Francis chuckled and slowly nodded. “Come now; I think I know what I can do to make you relax. Your surprise is waiting.” She tugged on his arm, leading him to her bedroom. “Close your eyes.” she added, turning around and walking backwards a little. She wore a grin on her lips as she waited for Francis to close his eyes. Francis heard the soft shuffling of clothes sliding down and the light creaks of the floorboards as Carmen stepped closer to him.

“May I open my eyes?” he asked, chuckling.

“No, no, you may not.” she answered. She began to unbutton his shirt, delicately and teasingly letting her index finger slide down his chest to his stomach.

“Why do I feel like this surprise isn’t much of a surprise?” Francis teased. It wasn’t like the two hadn’t done this before; the two of them were _very_ sexual and since making their relationship “official”, they practically couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Francis felt Carmen slip off his belt and gently pull down his pants; in that moment, Francis picked her up and threw her, gently, onto the bed. He climbed on top of her and kissed her neck sweetly, humming under his breath.

“You’re ruining my surprise for you, _amor_!” she said, teasingly. Carmen giggled, letting her hand rest on the top of his head and her fingers run through his hair. Francis chuckled, moving up to meet her lips.

“Sorry, dear, but I’m a little impatient today,” he replied, with a smile. “Maybe another surprise tomorrow will do the trick.” Carmen laughed, leaning her head back against the pillow.

“I suppose this _is_ part of the surprise, but I have something else to tell you.” she added, her voice low and sweet. “What do you think about moving in together, dear?” Francis paused, pushing himself up slightly to face her.

“ _Quoi_?” he asked, shocked.

“Moving in together? I thought it would be nice, considering we’re already so close from such a close friendship. I only live down the hall; moving in wouldn’t be so difficult.” Carmen continued. Francis gulped and rolled off of her. She leaned against him, letting her hand trace his jawline. “Francis? Did I say something wrong?” _No, but I_ did _something wrong._ He thought to himself. _Do I tell her? Or do I keep quiet?_ “Francis, you’re worrying me. Talk to me.”

“Carmen,” Francis sighed, closing his eyes. “D-don’t you think we could be moving too quickly if we do this?” Carmen stared at him, but turned away, slowly nodding.

“I suppose I am, what is the phrase in English? Jumping ahead of myself?” she replied, brushing her hair back with her hand. “But, I don’t know, Francis. We spend so much time together and I think it makes sense to live together. Don’t you think?” Francis bit down on his bottom lip. He had never felt so much guilt pressed down so much upon him; though he had only _kissed_ Arthur, he still technically _cheated_ on her. He nearly could not deal with the weight on his mind.

“I-I suppose we could move in together,” he stammered. “Carmen, there’s something…”

“You went to Arthur’s place didn’t you.” She sighed. “Francis, stop being such a worrier; Arthur will forgive you soon enough. Can we focus on us?”

“Carmen, you don’t understand…”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would suspect that you have feelings for that Englishman after all.” she said, laughing. Francis nervously chuckled with her as she unhooked her bra and climbed on top of him, kissing his cheek. “Let me help you forget about him, _mi amor_ , and we can start packing afterwards.”

* * *

 

“He kissed me, Church; _kissed_ me!” Arthur hissed. He stood in front of his kitchen sink, scrubbing away at an empty mug. “First, he refuses to acknowledge that I have feelings for him because he doesn’t want to force me to admit my sexuality. Then, he tries to set me up with Feliciano.” He paused. “Look, I know I tried to sleep with Feli, but I’ve been fairly desperate lately. Anyways, after Feli and I part ways, Francis comes over here to ‘patch things up’, and bloody _kisses_ me! The nerve of that man!” Arthur angrily placed the plate on the drying rack and turned off the faucet. “Why on earth would he kiss me?”

Churchill simply looked up at his owner and meowed. It was as if to say, ‘ _get your head out of your ass, loser!_ ’ and Arthur agreed. He sighed heavily and leaned back against the counter, resting his elbows on the surface behind him. Francis kissing him was one of the worst things that could’ve happened. It was especially not good concerning the fact that they were terribly angry with one another and Francis had a girlfriend.

“You know what?” Arthur said aloud, “This is stupid. I’m done. That cheesy French bastard can go toss himself off a bridge for all I care. To hell with him!” Churchill looked up at Arthur with wide eyes and meowed once more with affirmation.

It was Friday night and Arthur was doing nothing. What the hell did Francis care about him anyway? If he was going to act like that, then he wasn’t worth the time. But here Arthur was in his kitchen talking to his cat. A young man in his mid-twenties with nothing to do and everything to hate in the world. He suddenly felt as if he were jumping out of his skin with every mere second he spent in that damn kitchen. Arthur needed to get out and he needed to get out fast. No matter where it was, he just needed to go. Arthur changed out of his pajamas after what seemed like ages. The pajamas seemed to stick to him now and he desperately ripped them from his restless skin. Something in him was itching to get out as he dug through his closet to find a pair of shoes he forgot he owned. A grey hoodie, jeans, and a leather jacket long forgotten. Arthur bid a quick farewell to Churchill as he left his apartment in a whirlwind of noise and hair.

Arthur wasn’t going to do anything drastic tonight. He was not going to get drunk or get stoned or do anything stupid. He just needed out. Out of his apartment, out of work, out of all matters involving Francis Bonnefoy. Francis Bonnefoy did not exist that night and he never would exist again if Arthur had any say in the matter. He was a speck of dust floating in the sunlight, and the sun had set and the dust was gone.


	8. Low-Budget Indie Movie Self Discovery

At the ripe time of nine o’clock in the evening, Arthur Kirkland entered a cozy little cafe that he knew of from connections of the musical sort. It wasn’t the Starbucks name-brand kind of place where he met Francis nearly months before to apologise. It was a cafe that was barely a cafe. It was more of a dark little hole in the wall where everybody was something strange. Arthur hadn’t been there since he played music instead of just remembering music. It was the hipster-with-glasses and dark-slam-poetry kind of joint. A place where Arthur wouldn’t be noticed by anybody and if anybody did try to notice him, they would be too baked to make any sort of good conversation. As he entered the place, the familiarity suddenly came back to him all at once. There was the place he played his guitar and all the same strange people smoking strange things and not caring about too much at all.

Arthur bought tea from the actual cafe bit of the establishment and then made his way over to a vacant group of couches in a dark corner. There was a band playing. They were all young and probably just starting for the night. The lead guitarist reminded him slightly of himself and was probably only some years younger. The band had a sad yet reckless feeling to them which happened to be perfect for the setting. Arthur could smell pot and black coffee and laughed to himself. What was he doing here? He really didn’t belong there anymore but he didn’t know what else he planned on doing. Arthur kicked his feet up on the low table between the couches and sat back with his tea. While he was here he might as well think of something good to do. There was no use of calling Alfred or Matthew because the both of them would suggest they go find Francis and have him tag along as well. Well, Alfred would do that. Matthew was always an option, however Arthur wanted to stay unknown. It was a strange and refreshing feeling to be unknown for a short time.

“Is this seat taken?” A voice beside him pulled Arthur out of his thoughts. He turned his head to see a lovely girl standing beside him. Not a girl really, but Arthur most likely had a couple years on her.

“It is now, I s’pose.” Arthur gave her a small grin and gestured to the couch beside him. She smiled and sat down next to him, kicking her feet up along with him.

“The band is okay tonight. Last weekend they a really shit group up there. Couldn’t play a single note for the life of them.” The girl went right on talking to Arthur.

“Really? These guys are half-decent. I don’t think anybody cares too much though.” Arthur replied with a small laugh. Normally people didn’t take the opportunity to come up and begin a conversation with him like this. Maybe he looked less grumpy that night. He certainly felt less grumpy.

“I care. And these guys suck. Let’s get the fuck outta here.” she grumbled and suddenly jumped up from the couch. Arthur stayed where he was and she looked down at him expectantly.

“Are you coming?” she asked, her voice laden with some sort of indescribable madness and energy. Arthur had absolutely no idea what to do. He wasn’t old but he wasn’t the type to go running around at night with random girls he had just met. But she didn’t seem like she was trying to get anything out of him. Besides, what else was there to do?

“Yeah.” Arthur replied shortly and jumped up after her. The two of them promptly left the cafe and began to stroll down the dark sidewalk at night toward where he had his car parked.

It turned out the girl’s name was Michelle. She was at school to be actress. Upon hearing this, Arthur just laughed and told her that she was in the wrong city. But apparently California and New York had become too mainstream for Michelle and she couldn’t stand Hollywood types anyway. She didn’t want to act in movies but rather in plays of which she often performed on the other side of the city in a theater Arthur had never heard of. Michelle took Arthur into a convenience store. She bought a pack of cigarettes and Arthur bought nothing. All at once, Michelle wanted to show him the theater where she acted. They went to Arthur’s car which was still parked near the cafe. Michelle seemed to have absolutely no problem parading around with Arthur, of whom she had just recently met. Arthur didn’t have a single problem with it either. Michelle instructed him as he drove through the city with her in passengers seat. It turned out that she liked Led Zeppelin too.

They drove fast to where Michelle’s theater was. They stopped off and she showed Arthur into the grand complex. She had keys to the place which was quite helpful in their plans to enter the building. Arthur realized as he entered the dark theater that this was a great opportunity for Michelle to mug him or possibly kill him. But the house lights suddenly came up and he turned to see Michelle smiling at him from the control booth. She led him up to center stage where they looked out over the imaginary audience. Michelle took a bow and then sat down with Arthur next to her.

“What are you doing?” Michelle asked, lighting one of her cigarettes.

Arthur was confused for a moment but just shrugged and leaned back on his hands.

“I don’t know...what are you doing?” He asked. Michelle smiled at him. She had a nice smile.

“I don’t really know either. I mean, I like to think I know what I’m doing but I don’t. Not really. See, when you grow up you assume people are going to start telling you things but they never really do. You know?” Arthur just nodded and looked out into the invisible audience. The stage lights were bright but there was nothing frightening about them. It was like they were in a play or something but with an audience of nobody. It was a strange thing to describe but it was there and it was comforting. Maybe the comfort came with Michelle’s smile or the stage lights or the fact that nothing was really bothering Arthur at that moment. But it was there.

“You’re right. I just think it doesn't make much sense that we’re expected to know everything even though nobody ever told us. I understand what you’re saying though.” Arthur said, his voice more calm than he imagined it.

Michelle nodded with contentment and took of puff of her cigarette. “There’s something bothering you, isn’t there?”

“Is it obvious?” Arthur asked with a small chuckle.

“Not too much, but there’s always something bothering everyone. What is it?” Michelle’s voice sounded so innocently beautiful and Arthur contemplated telling her what the real problem was.

“Well I fucked some stuff up, and then somebody else fucked some things up and now I guess we’re both just angry with one another. It’s like running in circles after each other because one minute you’ll be angry and then the next you’ll be guilty.” Arthur explained to her. There a brief silence as the two of them just sat with stage lights pouring over them as if they were two angels of the empty night.

“Why don’t you just stop feeling both things and apologize?” Michelle then said.

“Because I’ll apologize and then something bad will happen. It’s like every time I’m around him something bad happens and we get angry at one another again and somebody does or says the wrong thing.”

“Him?”

Again, a moment of silence. Arthur shifted his feet slightly and didn’t look at Michelle. He worried that she would now judge him more than she probably was already. Arthur was just a baby crying about things that were of little importance. Crying over things that could and would never matter.

“Yeah, him.” Arthur replied quietly.

There was that smile again. Michelle’s smile; the grin of the original Beauty School Dropout with an angel’s halo and a cigarette hanging out the side of her mouth giving her the sense of a new-time James Dean. If only James Dean went to heaven then he would be a damn good boy to have up there amongst the angels. Because nobody could ever really stay pure forever. People do things that they regret and things that they shouldn’t do. People mess up and make fools of themselves but it can always be fixed. That was that. All held in the single smile of this perfect stranger Arthur had met all in one night. And there they sat on the top of the world, looking out at all the audience members who didn’t even exist. As William Shakespeare said, ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women are merely players.’

“Is he important to you?” Michelle asked Arthur.

“God, yes.” Arthur said suddenly before he could stop himself. It was too late to regret it because for the wildest reason, he knew it was true.

“Then you both apologize to one another and try not to fuck things up. You’ll be okay, Arthur. He isn’t going to be angry with you for apologizing.”

“But I’m the one who is angry! He did something he wasn’t supposed to do and now he’s just treating everyone and everything like a little game that he can just do whatever he wants with.” Arthur was feeling angry now. Not at Michelle, but at Francis and everything he swore wouldn’t exist for the night.

“Talk to him. Nothing is going to get better until you tell him this and you have some sort of sensible conversation with one another. Arthur, you need to communicate with him. If he can’t handle it, then he isn’t worth a single second of your time. Trust me.” Michelle spoke as if she actually were a guardian angel sent to stop him from going mad. Arthur just nodded and offered her a small grin.

“Thank you...I’m glad we met. I don’t think I’ve ever known anybody like you before.”

“I’ve never met anybody like you, Arthur Kirkland. Thank you too. You’re a good guy and things with this guy are going to work out, okay?”

“Alright.” Arthur said, standing up. The two of them shared a hug and exchanged  phone numbers. It was strange feeling by the time Arthur went out to drive home. The two of them had only been friends for hours and somehow Michelle had understood him more than anybody lately. She was correct about his situation with Francis as well. Things weren’t going to get better until they talked. Not just another screaming match and tension-fueled kiss. A real talk concerning why they kept messing up and a real talk to see if Francis truly was worth a second of Arthur’s time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This chapter is a little cheesy and random, but I hope you like it. It's meant for Arthur's character and development in the story. Michelle is not an actual Hetalia character. In fact, she may even only exist to Arthur. \m/   
> ~Emily (shutthefrukup) 
> 
> Apologies for the very delayed update; Emily's and my life have been fairly hectic lately (school's a bitch). But we've gotten very ahead of ourselves in the fic so updates should be happening fairly regularly now. Enjoy this chapter! <3  
> ~Katelyn (violinia)


	9. What Did You Expect??

Francis paced back and forth near Arthur’s cubicle the next morning. Arthur was late to work, and he was _never_ late. Francis couldn’t help but scream at himself internally; he had never been in such a mess before when it came to relationships. The kiss from yesterday really screwed things up in his mind; did he actually have some feelings for Arthur after all? Or was Carmen’s comment from last night lingering in his mind? Francis couldn’t deal with this internal panic inside his head; it didn’t suit him.

Behind him, he heard the door slam and the heavy footsteps of Arthur wandering to his cubicle. Francis took a deep breath and peered around the thin wall that divided him and the Englishman. “ _Bonjour_ , Arthur,” he greeted, calmly. “I was wonder--”

“If we could talk?” Arthur interrupted, finishing Francis’ sentence. Francis nodded; he wasn’t shocked in the slightest that Arthur knew exactly what he was going to ask. Francis _did_ kiss him yesterday, after all. “We can discuss things in your apartment tonight, if you’d like.” Arthur continued, maturely. He shrugged his coat off of his thin frame and gently placed it on the back of his chair. “Or mine, I don’t particularly care. But I think it’s about time for us to stop bickering for once, and behave like mature adults.”

“I really don’t want to put this conversation off; how about we discuss the matters in the break room? We can close and lock the door so no one will interrupt us.” Francis suggested. He paused. No, discussing things in a closed and locked room with just the two of them would be too suspicious; especially with a certain Alfred lurking about. Then again, discussing everything that has occurred in the past few weeks in either of their apartments would be suspicious as well; especially since Carmen was planning to move her belongings into Francis’ apartment during the week. Francis shook his head and laughed. “Never mind, we can keep the door open. We wouldn’t want Alfred to suspect anything.”

“Agreed.” Arthur muttered. He sighed, walking right past Francis and into the break room that was just around the corner. Francis followed suit, pushing back his hair behind his ear. All he could hope for was that Arthur would not blow up in a temper tantrum after this discussion. Not like the day before or yesterday.

Luckily enough, no one was in the break room when the both stepped in after another. Francis’ nose curled up slightly at the permanent smell of stale coffee as he entered the room and quickly grabbed a chair at the tiny table that sat in the center. Arthur sat across from him and folded his hands in his lap. “So?” Arthur sighed, glaring at Francis with his green eyes. He smirked. “Where the hell do we begin?” Francis couldn’t help but smile as well.

"Should we start off with the dinner from a few days ago? Or the…” His voice trailed off.

“Kiss.” Arthur finished for him. “Well, considering we did nothing but shout at each other yesterday about the dinner, we should probably clear everything up about that before we talk about your strange act of impulse yesterday.” Francis nodded slowly.

“Arthur, you have to believe that I really am incredibly sorry for everything that has happened. I don’t know how things between us became so bad but I just feel like I keep messing up over and over again. I’m really sorry for just everything that has happened.” Francis began.

“I’m sorry as well. I think we’ve both been acting pretty immaturely. We’ve both messed things up and I think we both deserve an apology. But I want to ask you, were you really trying to set me up with Feliciano to get me off your back?” Arthur questioned. Francis bit his bottom lip and took a deep breath.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I had a few drinks and I suppose I thought setting the two of you up was a good idea.” he replied.

“Did you not remember that I specifically said I wasn’t looking for a date?” Arthur said with a sudden sharpness to his voice. He then realized he was beginning to get angry again and sat back in the chair, taking a deep breath.

“Yes, I am sorry. I know you told me you were not looking for a date or for anybody at all but you seem so lonely and I just wanted to help. All I was trying to do was help you, and I promise it wasn’t about getting you off my back.” Francis explained in a calm tone with his eyes fixed on the table top.

Arthur dropped his eyes to floor and crossed his arms over his chest. He sunk into the chair and both refused to look at one another for a moment. “I’m not lonely and if I was, kissing me wouldn’t change anything.” Arthur mumbled, his eyes still on his feet.

“I know...I’m sorry. I don’t know how to explain it but I just felt like I had to. Like there was nothing left to do besides leave and I couldn’t leave it like it was-” Francis began.

“You could’ve left it! For God’s sake, you’ve got a girlfriend and you don’t like me and maybe I liked you for a little while but now there is nothing left! We fucked up, Francis. You’re on your side of the cubicle and I’ll stay on mine.” Arthur said forcefully and uncrossed his arms. He placed both hands on the table and made as if he were to stand up.

“I never said anything about not liking you, Arthur.”

Arthur looked down at Francis who was still sitting alone now at the tiny break room table. Their eyes met and Arthur frowned. There was no way in hell he was going to let Francis manipulate him in any way.

“Don’t do this to me. Sort yourself out first before you try and tell me any more bullshit, alright?” Arthur turned away from Francis and left the breakroom to go back to his desk.

As far as that had gone, they both apologized to one another. Things were clear except for Francis. Arthur wasn’t going to let him say anything else because he would try to make Arthur feel bad again or have Arthur chasing after him like before. But there was nothing left to do besides wait and see if Francis would accept it and go back to the way things were before. Something was still tugging at the back of Arthur’s mind as he went to sit back down at his desk. Francis had kissed him because he had to. He still must’ve thought Arthur was lonely or maybe he thought tension had to be released in a way other than smacking each other over the head. Whatever it was, Arthur still didn’t understand. He only hoped that Francis would figure out his own problems before Arthur had to deal with him again.


	10. She Has a Way With Words

Out of the two brothers in the office, Matthew was by far the more tolerable one. He had a level head on his shoulders, unlike Alfred who didn’t bother filtering any of the words that came from his head and did whatever he felt like on a whim. Matthew was a reliable guy; extremely quiet, but very responsible and trustworthy. Francis could always count on Matthew, be it paper work or simple advice; Francis could probably trust Matthew with his life and survive.

Turning off his car, Francis climbed out of his car and shoved his hands in his pocket, turning to see Matthew close behind him. It was hard to believe that mild mannered Matthew was indeed related to Alfred; because unlike Alfred, Francis felt that he could speak to Matthew about extremely serious issues. Francis sighed with relief and patted Matthew’s back. “Thank you for joining me today, Matt.” he sighed. “I need someone with a level head to give me advice.” Matthew smiled and nodded.

“Anytime.” he replied, with a grin. He stepped into the cafe, holding the door for Francis. They walked over to a small booth and placed their jackets to claim their seat. They followed each other over to the small queue that was by the cashier and ordered their drinks; a simple cup of coffee for Matthew and a latte for Francis. “So,” Matthew muttered, as the two of them sat back down. “What seems to be the trouble?” Francis took a sip from his latte, hesitating to speak. “Hey, I promise I won’t tell Alfred a word of our discussion. I’m very good with secrets. You know that.”

“It’s about Arthur,” Francis blurted. “You see, we’ve had another big fight.”

“I’ve noticed,” Matthew murmured. “You two are like two popular high school girls fighting over the same guy.” Francis stared at him, silent. “Okay, you’re fighting over each other but still, you get my point. Continue.”

“ _Anyway_ , we had a fight because I tried to set him up with another man. A good friend of mine, actually.” Francis continued. Matthew smirked.

“That Italian guy, right? And Arthur didn’t like him?” Matthew chuckled. “I thought everyone liked a nice, spicy Italian guy.”

“That’s more like Feliciano’s brother, not Feliciano himself. Feliciano is sweeter and...slightly more innocent. Don’t let him fool you, though; he can be quite the troublemaker and can be extremely naughty.” Francis clarified. He scowled. “Stop distracting me.”

“Sorry.”                                                     

“So, I tried to hook him up with Feliciano, and so Arthur was very upset with me because of that. I went to his house to try to patch things up, because the last time we fought, our fighting lasted for the longest time. I wanted to be the mature one, so I tried talking to him. But Arthur is just so damn hotheaded, and screamed at me the entire time. And so we both shouted things at each other that we shouldn’t have and…” Francis’ voice trailed off as he hesitated, glancing over at his coffee. “I kissed him.” Matthew’s eyes widened as he covered his mouth, trying not to spit coffee everywhere.

“You _what_?!” Matthew shouted. He slid his coffee mug away and folded his hands in front of him. “Let me get this straight; you _kissed_ Arthur. _Why_? I thought you were in a relationship?”

“I _am_ ; you’ve met Carmen, right? The woman who lives next door next to me?” Matthew only nodded, closing his eyes. “But, I kissed Arthur because it was just so _tense_ in that damn room. The man needs to lighten up.” Francis paused. “Do I tell Carmen?” Matthew drew in a quick breath through his lips and leaned back against the booth.

“The two of you just got together, right?” he questioned. “Yeah, probably not.” Matthew tapped his fingers against the wooden table and bit his tongue. “You’re not developing any feelings for Arthur, are you?”

“Of course not!” Francis snapped, leaning forward. “I would _never_ have feelings for that tasteless Englishman!” Matthew frowned.

“Hmm…” he sighed, looking down.

“What?! What does that mean?” Francis hissed.

“You’re snapping, which means you’re in denial.” Matthew answered. Francis scowled at him and leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “Okay, how about this, what do you _like_ about Arthur?”

“Absolutely nothing!! He’s too hot headed and he acts so immaturely! Not too mention he has the worst taste in clothes and food. And those horrid eyebrows, _horrid_!!” Francis answered, angrily. “He does have decent taste in music, I suppose. Have you heard him sing quietly in his cubicle when he’s not busy? It’s lovely. Even his speaking voice is kind of nice. And it’s good that he’s an adult and is on time for meetings or work and he speaks intelligently. I suppose he’s not _that bad_ , after all. He’s just...Arthur.” Matthew nodded.

“Alright,” he muttered, nonchalantly. “What do you _hate_ about him?”

“Everything!”

“Hmm.”

“Stop that! I don’t like that sound! Stop with your judgements, Mathieu!” Francis shouted. Nearly everyone in the coffee shop had turned their heads and stared at the two of them in the corner. Francis’ shouting had given them too much attention and Matthew bowed his head down, trying to hide his face. “ _Désolé_ , I did not mean to shout.” Matthew shrugged.

“It’s amusing how much heavier your accent gets when you’re angry.” he said, laughing. “Okay, one last question; tell me about Carmen.”

“Oh, she’s such a lovely woman, Matt, you’d love her! She’s so beautiful and warm and…” Francis took a minute to let out a sigh. “We spend too much time in bed together…”

“I don’t...really need to know that but, continue.” Matthew interrupted.

“I love her very much. She means so much to me and it tears me apart that I’m keeping secrets from her.” Francis finished.

“If she means so much to you, shouldn’t you be doing everything in your power to make sure things are okay with her than with Arthur?” Matthew asked, smirking. Francis narrowed his eyes.

“What do you mean? Are you insinuating that I have feelings for Arthur?” he grumbled. Matthew chuckled.

“ _Yeah_ , that’s exactly what I’m getting at.” he said, teasingly. “Just now, you said a lot more about Arthur in an obsessive kind of way than you did about Carmen.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Francis scoffed.

“True, but it says a lot to me. You’ve spent so much time trying to make things right with Arthur while all you seem to do with Carmen is well.” Matthew cleared his throat.  “Please each other. Or at least that’s what I’m guessing from what you’ve told me.” Matthew clarified. “Arthur holds a place in you heart, Francis, and you may not be able to explain it. That’s kind of how things work. But, maybe you should come to terms with it?”

“I have no feelings for Arthur whatsoever; I love Carmen.” Francis repeated.

“Okay, prove it.” Matthew replied. He lifted his hands up and laughed. “Not necessarily to me, because honestly it doesn’t affect me. _However_ , you need to prove it to _yourself_ that you love her. Shower her with gifts, be romantic; do whatever people do when they’re in relationships. Because from my point of view, you and Carmen are just extreme friends-with-benefits with _some_ strings attached. And if it turns out you don’t return feelings for her, it’s better to cut the strings sooner than later, yes?” Francis stared at him with a frown. Francis absolutely hated breaking people’s hearts when it came to relationships. Carmen was such a great friend, and he didn’t want to lose her if Matthew’s predictions happened to be correct. Though, Francis was almost certain he held no feelings for Arthur whatsoever; that man was a lost cause.

Matthew snapped his fingers in front of Francis’ face. “Hey, did I lose you?” he asked, with a small smile. Francis shook his head and laughed nervously.

“No, no, I was just thinking.” he answered. He wrapped his hands coffee mug and nodded. “Perhaps you’re right; I’m not being romantic enough with Carmen. And that’s very strange for me, actually; I love being romantic to those I love.” Matthew chuckled.

“I know, and it’s kinda weird. Like, it’s very sweet, but almost sickening sweet.” he said. He drummed his hands on the table and stood up. “Do what you must, Francis, but I honestly think you’ve developed some feelings for Arthur.” He shrugged on his jacket and smiled. “But hey, I suppose that happens when you hate someone,”  Matthew turned to face the door and waved goodbye to Francis, finishing his sentence: “You spend so much energy trying to hate them that you actually end up falling in love with them.”

* * *

 

Carmen had most of her belongings packed into boxes so it would be slightly easier to carry to Francis’ apartment. She wasn’t fully moving out yet; just moving her important stuff that she needed in her daily life. Francis had expressed his concern about her moving in so soon, so she would respect that by keeping a good majority of her stuff in her own apartment. But the two of them could not deny that Carmen was staying in Francis’ apartment than her own.

Carmen kicked the small shoe she had wedged between the door frame and the door itself as she stepped into Francis’ apartment and placed the box on the floor. “That should be it for now,” she announced, looking up to see Francis neatly putting dinner on two plates. “I’m so glad we agreed to this, _mi amor_. It’s almost like we’ve been together for several years, don’t you think?” Francis’ only response was a soft smile and glance as he gently set the ladle back into the pot.

“Dinner’s ready; I made your favorite.” he said, gently. Carmen grinned as she briskly stepped towards him and planted a soft, warm kiss against his lips.

“I love it when you cook, darling. There’s no one else on this earth that can cook as well as you can.” she said, sweetly. She cradled his jaw with her hand and let it slowly fall to his chest. Ever since having dinner with their friends the other night, Francis hadn’t been himself. He was rather distant and unresponsive to her; even the night before when they had made love together, he had not been as passionate as he usually was. There was something else possessed his mind, _someone_ who distracted him from her.

Arthur.

“The past few days have been a little stressful, and I thought we could just spend the evening just the two of us enjoying each other’s presence.” Francis clarified, kissing Carmen’s forehead. He picked up a plate and handed it to her. “ _Bon appetit, mon amour_.” His words sounded forced; _mon amour_ , wasn’t sincere. Whatever made him decide to do all of this, Carmen knew that she wasn’t truly on Francis’ mind in that moment.

“Francis,” Carmen sighed, setting the plate back onto the counter. “Are you _still_ upset about what happened between you and Arthur?” Francis groaned.

“Must we talk about that right now?” he grumbled. “I just want to spend my night with you without thinking about that horrid man.” Carmen frowned.

“The adjectives you use to describe this man become more and more vivid the more you talk about him.” Carmen said. “Are you still fighting with him?” Francis rolled his eyes.

“So, how was your day, my dear? Make any new designs for dresses?” he asked, switching the subject. Carmen let out a frustrated sigh; Francis was doing everything he could to avoid the subject of Arthur. It was either because of the fight or because something _else_ had occurred. He was hiding something and he was not the best at lying or hiding. But alas, Carmen decided to play along anyway; there was no point in arguing.

“My day was fine, I suppose,” she replied, picking her plate back up. She turned away from him and walked out to the dining table, neatly placing her plate in front of her chair and sat down. “Nothing eventful happened. And yours? Was yours better? How’s Arthur?”

“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur! Why do you keep bringing him up?! He’s not important at all, okay?!” Francis snapped. “Arthur is fine, _thank you_ for asking! He’s still annoyed at me, per usual!”

“No need to snap at me, Francis!” Carmen spat back. Francis took a deep breath and exhaled, bowing his head down.

“I’m sorry, Carmen. Things have been...hectic lately and all I want is to spend by the side of my beloved.” Francis replied, lowering his voice. Carmen cut a piece of the gravy soaked beef on her plate and popped a piece into her mouth before narrowing her eyes in thought.

“Do you want to know what I think?” she muttered. “I think you’re hiding something from me. You did something and you can’t handle the guilt. It’s a huge weight crashing down on you and you can’t hide it.” She smirked. “What did you do?” Francis bit his lip and shook his head.

“It’s better if I don’t tell you.” he muttered. Carmen raised her eyebrows.

“Oh really? It’s already caused some issues, what more can you do?” she teased.

“I kissed Arthur.” Francis blurted, closing his eyes. Carmen dropped both her fork and knife against the plate and rested her elbows on the table. She looked at Francis and sighed heavily. In the back of her mind there had been the lurking suspicion that something of that sort had happened between Francis and Arthur.

She paused for taking another deep breath.

“Why did you kiss Arthur?” She was trying to sound calm, but she knew that she couldn’t hold back her bubbling anger for long. Francis slowly exhaled while opened his eyes. He threw his napkin on to the table and leaned forward on his elbows to put his face in his hands.

“It was just so tense and I didn’t know what to do and I thought it could solve the problem-” he began.

“You aren’t going to solve any problems by running around kissing everybody, Francis! Kissing people only makes matters worse, especially when people mistake it for actual affection!” Carmen cut Francis off with incredulous anger in her voice. At this point she didn’t know what to tell him. She had thought Francis was smarter than that. He had always been the sort of man who let feelings take over when he didn’t know what else to do…

“I-I don’t know Carmen…” Francis said and sat back in his chair. He was frowning and looked horribly guilty. He really did have a lot to feel guilty for.

“What don’t you know?” Carmen asked and tried to get him to look at her.

“I don’t know if it really was actual affection or not…” Carmen suddenly pushed back from the table and threw her napkin to the ground. All the time she had spent with Francis and now somehow it meant nothing. Empty promises of love and living together for the past few months. There were only a select few words Carmen had for Francis.

“ _Vete a la verga culero!_ ” Carmen yelled and walked out of the apartment, leaving Francis alone and guilty at the dinner table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit just got real.  
> ~Katelyn (violinia)
> 
> Translation: Vete a la verga culero ~ Fuck You, Asshole
> 
> She truly does have a way with words. Thanks for reading, new update soon <3  
> ~ Emily (shutthefrukup)


	11. The Horny Little Devil

It was two in the morning and Arthur couldn’t sleep. He would have to get up for work in four hours anyway but it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Churchill, plump and grumpy as ever, sat in the crack between the couch cushions with Arthur beside him. A hot cup of lemon sleepytime tea rested on the ancient coffee table beside the couch and Arthur sat on the couch beside his cat. He sat crosslegged in his pajamas with his acoustic guitar resting on his lap. There was a notebook balanced over his foot and a pen that was about to roll into the couch cushion crack. Two o’clock in the morning was the time to write music. When sleep wouldn’t come, it was a time to write music and drink tea.

It seemed a little girly that Arthur would write a song about Francis so instead he tried to think of something else to write about. Currently all that coming to his mind was that night with Michelle. Sitting under the stage lights and smoking and talking about Francis. He had talked to Francis and now that felt like a massive weight off his shoulders. Yet Francis was still there in his head. After their last talk Arthur had been thinking about what Francis had said before he left. Arthur wasn’t going to let him play around with his head but he still wondered if Francis really did have feelings for him or not. That was exactly what Arthur couldn’t think about. Francis was probably just trying to mess things up more than they already had been messed up. He was trying to make Arthur get his hopes up and think there was something there. Arthur was beginning to overthink this again and it was probably just what Francis wanted.

Arthur stood up and set his guitar down on the couch. Churchill shifted his position to rub his head against the side of the instrument. Arthur was about to go make a second cup of tea to clear his thoughts when he suddenly heard his phone buzz on the coffee table. It was a new text from Matthew.

 

_-Hey are you dressing up for Halloween tomorrow?? -_

 

Arthur sighed and shook his head at himself. He had completely forgotten that it was Halloween in a couple of days. Normally professional companies didn’t make a huge deal of the holiday. But good old Remote Location was crazy about Halloween. Everybody wore some ridiculous costume to work and people brought in bat-shaped donuts to keep in the break room all day. Arthur wasn’t a big fan of the donuts or the costumes, but he was a fan of Halloween. With all that had been going on recently he had nearly forgotten the holiday. Matthew, texting him at two in the morning, had evidently forgotten as well. Arthur texted him back.

 

_: yes, I was planning on it:_

_-seriously? I totally forgot and now I’m at walmart and I think there’s a man following me with an entire litter of kittens and a bottle of hot sauce-_

_:Matthew, you should know not to go to Walmart past 10pm:_

_-I know but i don’t wanna wear the horny devil costume-_

 

In the midst of this ridiculous texting conversation, Arthur put his phone down and shuddered when Matthew mentioned the devil costume. See, Alfred had this thing where he liked everybody to participate in things. If you went into the office on Halloween and didn’t have a costume of some sort, Alfred brought an extra costume for you to wear. This ‘extra costume’ consisted of a sparkly pair of plastic devil horns and red t-shirt with ‘I’m A Horny Devil’ printed on it in big letters. Arthur would have to pull together a costume that night or else he would be the one wearing the devil costume. He picked his phone up and again and texted Matthew back.

 

_:...I don’t blame you. Good luck finding a costume, and try not to get killed by the hot sauce guy:_

_-thanks.-_

 

Now that Halloween was officially brought to Arthur’s attention, he realized that he needed a costume as soon as possible. Time to consult the cat. He went back into the living room and looked down at Churchill who was still napping on his guitar.

“Church, what should I be for Halloween tomorrow?” He asked as if his cat could solve all his problems now. The cat was fast asleep and did not reply with it’s usual meow or vaguely bored glare. Arthur looked at the sleeping cat for a moment more and huffed softly at himself.

“I’ll just be John Lennon again…” He picked up his guitar and went into his bedroom to find his wide rimmed glasses for another year in a row.

* * *

 

Arthur sat at his desk the next day and looked around the office. He counted at least three different versions of Batman and three more versions of The Joker. Some people went all-out and dressed in full costumes of a movie star of cartoon character. Others just wore plastic vampire fangs or Mardi Gras beads. Arthur wore a rainbow tye-dyed t-shirt and his John Lennon glasses. He had brought his guitar in it’s case and had it propped up against his desk for show. Alfred had shown up that morning in what could’ve been an exact replica of the real Captain America costume used in the movies. Only Alfred would actually own something like that. Matthew had managed to get out of Walmart alive and showed up wearing a fake prisoner's jumpsuit.

“I see you managed to find a costume.” Arthur had commented when passing his desk.

“Man, it was either this or the sexy Peter Pan costume.” Matthew said. After that interesting conversation, Arthur had gone to his desk where Alfred was already waiting to talk to him with his mouth full of bat-shaped donuts. Alfred began chattering away in his ear about how he was excited to see all the little kids around his apartment complex go trick or treating and how cool his Captain America costume was. Arthur just listened and contemplated pulling out his guitar to start playing in order to shut Alfred up. That’s when Francis arrived at work in his usual fashion of being a few minutes late with a fancy latte from the cafe down the street. The one thing about Francis was that _he wasn’t wearing a costume_. Francis Bonnefoy would have to wear the devil costume. Arthur nearly fell out of his seat laughing at the thought.

“Woah! Franny! Where’s your costume bro?” Alfred stopped him as he went by them. Francis opened his mouth and smiled widely at Alfred to reveal a pair of plastic vampire fangs. He took them out of his mouth and laughed.

“I’m Edward Cullen from Twilight. You know, the sexy one?” Francis said and held up the vampire fangs. Alfred shook his head at this a frowned.

“Dude, you look nothing like Robert Pattinson. I think this might call for a little change of costume. Don’t you think, Arthur?” Arthur peeked his head around the cubicle wall and laughed. He gave Francis a once-over and nodded his head in agreement.

“I definitely think this calls for a change in costume.” Arthur muttered, amused. Francis scowled at him and waved his plastic fangs in Alfred’s face.

“I’m not Robert Pattinson! I’m Edward from the books!” He argued. It was too late though. Alfred had already pulled the big red t-shirt from his bag and held it out for Francis to put on. The people around them knew what was going on and began to laugh and take pictures to post on Facebook.

“If anyone should wear it, it should be Arthur! He’s been John Lennon two years in a row!” Francis exclaimed. Arthur just laughed and sat back to watch with satisfied amusement. Francis finally accepted his fate and shrugged the shirt on over his head. He grabbed the sparkly plastic devil horns from Alfred and put them on his head. Francis turned to Alfred and sighed. “Are you satisfied?” He asked, putting his arms out as if to say ‘ta-da!’

Alfred and Arthur began to crack up; Arthur nearly falling out of his chair and on to the floor. Francis looked utterly ridiculous in the devil horns and the t-shirt. The fun would only last a minute or so, because knowing Francis he would probably use the costume to his advantage and flirt with the girls from the advertising department who dressed like Playboy Bunnies every year.

“The sparkly horns really suit you Francis.” Arthur teased as he continued to laugh. Francis rolled his eyes and turned to face Arthur. If he was going to be stuck in this outfit all day he may as well not take himself too seriously.

“Well, you know Arthur, I am a horny devil.” He grinned and gave Arthur a joking wink. He saw Arthur’s cheeks go red and his mouth opened again to insult him, but Francis was already at his desk on the other side of the cubicle. It was going to be a long day for both of them.

At his lunch break, Arthur decided to avoid the crowded break room. It was probably filled with adults in costume fighting over who got space in the refrigerator and who got the last pumpkin donut. Arthur was about to start eating at his desk when he heard footsteps come up behind him. He turned in his chair to see none other than Mr. Horny Devil behind him. Arthur frowned and crossed his arms.

“What do you want?” He asked, leaning back in his chair and looking up at Francis. Francis scratched his head around one of his sparkly devil horns and looked at his feet.

“If you don’t mind, we need to talk. Privately.” Francis replied. Arthur wanted to tell him to go away and just go back to eating lunch. But the look on Francis’ face possessed him to get up and follow Francis. They went past the break room and down the hall to where the copy machine was. Francis pulled him around the corner and let out a heavy sigh before looking up  at Arthur.

“I’m sorry, Arthur-” He began to say but Arthur cut him off at once.

“What did you do now? Look, Francis, I don’t really care anymore. I don’t want anything to do with me if all you’re going to do is cause unnecessary drama in both of our lives.” Arthur said. Francis was just quiet for minute and then shook his head.

“Fine, I won’t say anything then. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.” As quickly as Francis had wanted to talk to him, he left. Arthur now wanted to know what Francis had to say but at the same time was glad he got rid of Francis so quickly. Maybe it would be best to just not know what Francis had to say and continue on as usual. He could already feel things going back to normal with Francis like it had this morning. The two of them were never meant to be close and it was better with them sufficiently apart. If only Arthur could get rid of his crush on Francis once and for all.

* * *

 

It was the lunch time lull at the office, where most of the workers had wandered off to the break room or to the bar across the street for some midday grub and callers themselves were doing the same in their homes. Francis, on the other hand, had no appetite. He hadn’t bothered packing a lunch before he left the apartment; he woke up late with an upset stomach, nearly throwing up into the toilet during his morning routine. Stress and anger did this to him, putting his stomach into knots and decreasing his will to eat. Even the mere smell of food could set him off, running to the bathroom doing his best not to gag.

Francis tapped his fingers against the top edges of his phone, waiting and hoping for Carmen’s response. He must’ve sent her too many texts messages than normal, her inbox flooding with his apologies. Francis didn’t want to lose a dear friend, he and Carmen were great friends before they became a couple.

 

_-Amour, how about we meet for dinner? My treat. You can have whatever you want. I just want to talk about this. Us. I can make a reservation at Brenda’s Cuisine at 7. I know how much you love that place. You always have wonderful taste. Promise me you’ll be there, amour.-_

 

Francis hit the send button and shoved his phone in his pocket. That would be the last text to her, unless she replied of course. Francis knew she wouldn’t, however, and rested his elbows on his desk and let out an exasperated sigh. Much to his surprise, his cell phone vibrated and he quickly took out his phone to see that Carmen indeed responded.

 

_-I can make 6:30 and no later. I will make the call. Also, I’m currently taking my belongings out of your apartment.-_

 

Francis’ heart sank; Carmen wasn’t even bothering giving him a second chance. Frustrated, Francis tapped out another text message.

 

_-Carmen, there’s no need for you to move out straight away. We can work things out, I promise. I’ll see you at 6:30, dear. <3-_

 

He let out another sigh and heard footsteps stop behind him. “You told her, didn’t you?” He heard Matthew say. Francis didn’t bother to respond or turn around; Matthew knew the answer well. Matthew let out a sigh and stepped into Francis’ cubicle. “And let me guess, she didn’t take the news very well, did she?” Again, Francis refused to respond. “Well, did you talk to Arthur yet?” Still, no response; he wasn’t willing to admit that he was developing feelings for Arthur Kirkland after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh we're getting so close! But yet, so far. Sorry for the delay in the update!!!   
> ~Katelyn (violinia)


	12. Artisan Wine

Carmen wasn’t a woman of patience; when it was time for her to move on, she did just that. She moved on and forgot whatever it was that tried to plague her. So when Francis _begged_ her to meet with him, she was a bit perturbed. Not to mention the thousands of fake endearing texts he had sent her. _Amour_ this and _amour_ that. She wasn’t his love anymore, Arthur was; whether Francis liked it or not.

For once in his life, Francis was right on time; he was still in his work clothes when he stepped into the restaurant. There were bags under his eyes (not a flattering look on him, to be honest) and a forced smile on his lips. “Carmen,” he greeted, kissing both of her cheeks. Carmen did not partake in the greeting back, Francis didn’t deserve her kisses anymore. “I’m glad we could finally talk. Shall we sit?” He nodded to the hostess who picked up two menus and led the two of them to their seats. Francis held out Carmen’s chair for her and Carmen sighed; there were some traditions she supposed she would still uphold. “How was your day, _mon amour_?” he asked, pushing her in.

“It was fine.” she replied, bitterly. Francis swiftly moved over to his side of the table and sat down. Carmen opened her menu and kept her eyes down low; she didn’t even want to look at him. Her anger was at the brim, and she really did not want to cause a scene in a public place.

“Good, I’m glad.” he answered, opening his menu as well. “Today is Halloween, and I went to work without a costume on. Alfred made me wear…” He paused, glancing up at Carmen. “He made me wear a ridiculous costume, a little devil. It was me who suffered this year. Isn’t that funny?”

“Doesn’t it say ‘I’m a horny little devil’?” Carmen asked. “How fitting.” She heard Francis sigh and rest his menu on the table.

“Carmen, I’m very sorry for what happened. The kiss meant nothing, I love you and only you.” he said. Carmen let out a sigh, blowing the air up in the direction to move her bangs out of the way.

“I bet you’ve said that to everyone you’ve been with.” she grumbled.

“Carmen,” Francis sighed. “It’s not...it’s not like I had sex with him.”

“But I know you’ve thought about it!” she snapped.

“I haven’t.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t lie to yourself.”

Francis took a deep breath and did his best to keep calm. Carmen knew she was being difficult, but it served him right; he was being just as difficult. “Francis, you need to sort out what’s going on in your mind.” she added.

“There’s nothing to be sorted, I love you.” he muttered.

“You love Arthur. Or you’re at least falling in love with him.” she replied. “It’s time for you to be the grown man you are and admit that you have a schoolgirl crush on him.”

“You know how I feel about English people! They’re horrid!” Francis yelled, his face turning red.

“You’re blushing,” Carmen teased, laughing to herself. “Or maybe that’s you’re angry face, I really can’t tell.” Francis glared at her and before he could open his mouth to defend himself, a waitress interrupted.

“Hi, my name’s Rachel; can I get you started on some drinks?” the waitress introduce, all smiles.

“The house wine is just fine. And some water, please.” Carmen said before Francis could answer. The waitress nodded, scribbling on her notepad before walking away.

“You _know_ how much I _hate_ house wine!” Francis hissed. Carmen smirked. “It’s going to be some horrendous Californian wine!”

“I know.” Carmen sighed, chuckling. “Lighten up, Francis; being angry like an Englishman doesn’t suit you at all.”

“Don’t you dare.” Francis grumbled. “Can we be mature for one minute? We need to sort this out!” Carmen sighed, turning the page of the menu. She supposed she was being a little too bitchy, but she had already made up her mind. She couldn’t be with a man who didn’t know what he wanted. Francis cleared his throat and leaned forward a bit. “So, you didn’t move everything out, did you?”

“Oh, I did. I’m now thankful that I didn’t move out of my apartment completely.” Carmen answered, smiling. Francis frowned.

“You’re not giving me a chance to--” he began.

“Why should I?” Carmen interrupted, calmly. “Give me one good reason as to why I should give you another chance.”

“Because we’re in love and we can get through this. It was only a kiss, Carmen. Arthur and I have never touched each other any further.” Francis said. Carmen rolled her eyes as the waitress came back, placing a bottle of wine in front of the them.

“Are we _truly_ in love, Francis? Because I think all we had was a sympathetic sexual relationship. We both didn’t have anyone special in our lives and the two of us thought ‘oh, my neighbor is kind of sexy, let’s fuck’.” Carmen said, not even caring that the waitress stood beside them, waiting for their orders. She stood there, wide eyed at Carmen’s sudden use of language.

“I’ll give you two a moment…” the waitress muttered, shuffling away. Carmen opened the bottle of wine and only poured Francis a glass. She wasn’t in the mood for wine, especially when she knew herself that the wine was most likely a piece of shit.

“On the other hand, however, I’m not sure you’re fully in love with Arthur. But you’re more in love with him than you are with me.” she continued, setting the bottle aside. “At least Alfred’s spare Halloween costume calls you at for what you are; a horny little devil.”

“Fine, I’m a horny little devil, but I don’t love Arthur. He’s a lost cause.” Francis muttered.

“Is he?” Carmen asked. “I haven’t seen him since the last incident involving Feliciano, whom by the way I heard he’s back with Ludwig.”

“Good for them.” Francis groaned.

“Anyway, it sounds like to me he’s realizing that you are a piece of work and too much of a hassle to be with. He’s moving on.” she added.

“He’s not moving on; he’s the obsessive type,” Francis sighed. “He won’t be over me for at least another month or two.” Carmen leaned back in her seat, letting one arm rest on the back of her chair.

“Then isn’t it most fitting for you to break up with me so you can swoop him off his sorry ass?” Francis pressed his lips together, furious.

“I feel nothing for that man.” Francis hissed.

“Then why did you kiss him? Surely you must’ve felt something.” Carmen mused.

“It was so tense in that damn room! We were arguing and...and…”

“Do you feel sorry for him?” Carmen asked.

“No, no I don’t.”

“Do you want to have sex with him?” Francis shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Take a sip of your wine and answer the question.” Francis grimaced as he did just that, sniffing the glass and taking the smallest sip. Carmen smirked; she was enjoying this far too much. “Do you want to have sex with Arthur Kirkland?”

“Possibly.” Francis answered, bitterly.

“Do you want to make him scream?”

“No.”

“For every lie you tell me, take a sip of wine.” Francis narrowed his eyes at her. “Go on, drink.”

“This is so immature, Carmen. If this is your revenge for the stupid mistake I made, I--” Francis began.

“Drink the damn wine, Francis.” Carmen insisted. Francis muttered under his breath as he took another sip, cringing at the taste.

“How much sugar is in this??” he complained, setting the glass back down. Carmen laughed.

“Answer me again; do you want to make him scream?” she questioned. She looked at her fingernails; her nailpolish was chipped and she took a mental note to put a fresh coating on tonight.

“I said it once and I’ll say it again; no.” Francis repeated. Carmen inhaled and shook her head.

“Oh now you’re just torturing yourself.” she said, pitifully. Francis rolled his eyes.

“What are you getting to eat?” he asked, trying to change the subject. Carmen closed her menu and shrugged.

“I haven’t decided yet.” she murmured. “Do you want to make sweet love to Arth--”

“ _Ferme la bouche_!” Francis snapped. “This is insulting, Carmen. I mean really, who do you think I am?!”

“Look, I’m just trying to help. You’re only making the situation worse by constantly telling yourself that you don’t have any feelings for Arthur.” she replied. “No need to yell at me in French.”

“Well, you swore at me in Spanish yesterday.”

“That’s because you deserved it, my dear.” Carmen sighed, tilting her head a little. “How do you feel about Arthur? Would you ever treat him to a nice dinner like this?” Francis bit his lip in thought.

“I don’t see why not.” he mumbled.

“Do you like the way he dresses? His work clothes? He kind of dresses like a gentleman, doesn’t he?” Carmen continued. Francis scoffed.

“He’s far from one.” he muttered.

“Oh, I bet he looks lovely in a nice, tailored suit,” The waitress had come back with her notebook in hand. “I bet Arthur’s a screamer; you like screamers, don’t you, Francis?” The waitress turned back around and left. “Since he’s desperate, I bet he’d do anything to please you, _anything_.”

“Believe it or not, sex isn’t what’s important to me in a relationship.” Francis said.

“It was with me,” Carmen said, smirking. “Alright, here’s what I think. I bet deep down, Arthur’s a romantic. He’ll shower you with gifts and love the longer you two are together. He won’t show it all the time, but I bet he’s extremely affectionate, like a cat. He’ll want you to cherish his affection so you know he truly means it, he truly has feelings for you. And when he stops showing affection, you know he’s not interested anymore. Arthur will always want to pay the bill at dinner, because he’s the gentleman, he’s the mature one. He’ll treat you like a prince, Francis, because that’s how he sees you. You’re the prince of his dreams.” Francis stared at her, arms crossed, in silence. “If I were you, I wouldn’t sit around for too much longer. Arthur’s a catch you wouldn’t want to lose.”

“I don’t have feelings for him.” Francis answered.

“Finish your glass of wine.” Carmen hissed.

“No.”

“Do it before I make you drink the whole bottle.” Francis begrudgingly finished the glass, grimacing and whining. “Mm, isn’t American wine oh so delicious?” Francis shot her a glare, placing the wine glass too close to the table’s edge. She smiled. “You’re gonna fall deeply in love with that man, aren’t you?”

“Of course not,” Francis replied, with a smug look on his face. Before Carmen could reach the wine bottle, Francis snatched it away from her, putting the cork back in. “Like I said, he is a lost cause.”

“And that’s why you’re a perfect match for him.” she added, laughing.

“Why did you come here, Carmen? To make fun of me or to work things out between us?” Francis asked.

“Oh, it’s over between us. I just came here to tell you that clearly, you should go after Arthur before you lose your chance.” she replied. “Unless, you need me to torture you again by drinking more of that sweet, sweet, _artisan_ Californian wine?”

“I’ve had enough to make me heave,” Francis sighed, setting the bottle back on the table. “So you came here to mock me.”

“You’ll thank me later, Francis; because I know you’re going to fall in love with Arthur Kirkland like he’s all but fallen for you now. You two hate each other so much, that it’s impossible for the both of you to not wonder what it would be like to fuck each other’s brains out.” Carmen took another sip of her water and wiped off the lipstick smudge off of the glass. “You love him; it’s in the way you look at him, talk about him and worry about him. If he was angry at you, why did you care so much? Why are you trying so hard to make things right with him? Why do you care?” Francis exhaled, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. “It’s because you have a remote interest in him, Francis. Admit it.”

“Sure, whatever,” Francis muttered. “Maybe I do like him, but it won’t work out between us. It wouldn’t even last a week.”

“I thought we would last at least a year and we didn’t last five months.” Carmen added. “Who knows, maybe you and Arthur will last a lifetime.” The waitress came back, a third time, and gave a timid smile to the both of them.

“A-are you ready to order?” she asked, nervously. Carmen smiled sweetly at her and nodded.

“Indeed we are,” she answered, kindly. She glanced at Francis with a smug smile, and laughed at herself. “I’m having a hard time making up my mind, so I think I’ll just go with whatever is the most expensive on this menu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carmen is my hero.  
> ~Katelyn (violinia)
> 
> I didn't write this chapter, but just wanna say a quick thanks to everyone who is reading this. As of today (6/15/15) the fanfic is all written and done. We will be posting chapters more frequently now, although there are ony two chapters left. Thanks for reading!! \m/   
> \- Emily (shutthefrukup)


	13. Apologies over Booze

Arthur had a craving for scotch and so he found himself wandering around the liquor store, hopelessly out of luck. Why he moved to America, he had no idea; Americans have poor taste in liquor. He stood at the scotch section of the store, scowling at the horrible sections laid out before him. “I suppose I’ll have to go with McCleland’s...such horrible taste.” Arthur muttered to himself. As he reached for the bottle, he heard the bell on the door ding and he glanced over to see Francis stepping in, with his head hung low. Arthur raised an eyebrow, amused. He took the bottle off the shelf and slowly mosied over to where Francis stood in the French wine section. “Interesting to find you here on Halloween night.” Arthur mumbled. Francis let out a sigh before turning to Arthur.

“I’m not in the mood.” he grumbled.

“What’s wrong, mate? Did you break up with your girlfriend or something?” Arthur joked. He laughed until he glanced over at Francis, who was glaring at the bottles of wine in front of him. “Oh, sorry. I-I didn’t…”

“It’s fine,” Francis sighed. “It was inevitable.”

“What happened? I can’t imagine that she would particularly get bored with you. you’re such a...charming person.” Arthur continued. Francis snorted.

“That’s ironic, coming from you.” he replied, chuckling. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” Arthur answered. “I was craving some scotch, but they have such wretched taste. Americans have no taste; all they care about is beer. I mean, I like beer but, it’s nice to have other types of alcohol. Maybe I’ll get some other whiskey instead...” Francis nodded in agreement.

“Their wines are terrible too. Carmen forced me to drink a glass of a Californian wine.” Francis added.

“My sincerest apologies to your taste buds.” Arthur joked. The two of them burst into laughter, causing the other four people in the store to look up and stare at them. “You made her that angry, huh? What did you do?” Francis cleared his throat.

“Our kiss is what happened.” he replied. Arthur nodded.

“Well, you did that to yourself, I suppose. I’m sorry, Francis. I really am.” Arthur apologized. “I’ve practically messed up everything. I wish I wasn’t so...bloody desperate all the time.” Francis smiled.

“When’s the last time you had relations?” he asked, curious. Arthur shrugged.

“I really don’t know, it’s been a while if I’m honest,” Arthur responded. “I dunno, probably when I was eighteen. Probably pissed out of my mind.”

“Excuse me?” Francis asked, confused. Arthur laughed, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry, it’s an expression for when you’re extremely drunk.” he clarified. Francis shook his head, still confused.

“I don’t understand English sometimes; you people have the weirdest expressions.” he muttered.  The Englishman shrugged and let out a sigh.

“What are you doing tonight? Maybe we could have a few drinks together, like civilized men.” he offered. “We could go to my house, since it’s around the corner, actually.” Francis stood there, hesitating and thinking for a moment. If the two of them were drinking, they ran the risk of doing something they would both regret out of their sadness and loneliness. Though, this way, the two could keep an eye out for each other on how much they were drinking and wouldn’t be influenced by outside forces (i.e. Alfred Fucking Jones).

“Promise me you won’t get ‘pissed out of your mind’, whatever the hell that means, and that it will be a casual night of drinking?” Francis asked. Honestly, who would turn down an evening of drinking good wine? Arthur jokingly crossed his heart and held up his other hand.

“I promise,” he agreed. “Besides, if I’m drinking whatever horrid liquor I purchase, I can only stomach one glass. If that.” He laughed at himself and Francis joined him, their laughter filling the quiet and nearly empty liquor store.

“You can have some of my wine, if you’d like.” Francis offered, smiling softly. Arthur shook his head.

“No, no, I’m not a big fan of wine. Plus, you seem really animate about drinking this wine you’ve selected. I wouldn’t want to ruin it for you.” he answered with a genuine smile. The two of them began to walk to the cashier, holding their designated bottles of alcohol close to their chests. “Thank you, though.” Feeling kind, Arthur gently took the bottle of wine away from Francis and paid for it and his bottle of Powers.

“Arthur,” Francis began to protest.

“Consider this the beginning of my apology for the trouble I’ve caused you in the past few months.” Arthur said before Francis could finish. Francis let out a sigh and smiled softly.

“Well, _merci, mon ami_ ,” he muttered, tapping Arthur’s shoulder. “I know that bottle isn’t cheap. I owe you one.” Arthur shook his head, shoving his wallet back in his pocket and picking up the paper bag.

“Don’t worry about it, Francis. I mean it.”


	14. Merry Christmas, My Love

They say that Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year. Or just that time of year in general. It is sort of difficult to not romanticize December. Lights hung everywhere, fresh snow, cozy bonfires. It’s a pleasant and beautiful sort of holiday season. But with every holiday there comes a crappy office holiday party along with it. It was a few days before Christmas and the CEO of Remote Location had rented out a fancy function hall for the annual holiday party. The function hall was decorated in entirely red and green with little Santa Claus themed decor. There was catering from a local Italian place and the hired DJ played Last Christmas and All I Want For Christmas Is You at least twenty times (despite Remote Location being a ‘secular company’). The only good part of the holiday party was always the open bar, courtesy of Remote Location’s higher-ups. But it was practically the same Christmas party as the years before and would be just as uneventful as the years before.

“Hey, remember that one year when Mathias from advertising got drunk and crashed his car into the lamppost?”

Alfred Jones sat at one of the round function hall tables sipping a beer. Like everyone else, he loved to recall the story of Mathias From Advertising crashing his car. Alfred was telling this story to the other people sitting at his table. It was him, Matthew, Francis, Arthur, and Kiku Honda from sales. Nobody laughed when Alfred brought up Mathias From Advertising. Instead, Matthew just got up and sighed.

“I’m getting another drink and maybe one of those little reindeer cookies…” Matthew left the table to go over to the bar. Francis just sat back in his seat staring blankly into space and Arthur sat beside him staring into his drink while Jingle Bell Rock played for the fifteenth time. Alfred hummed along to the song in his typically cheery fashion. Kiku looked as if he were about to fall asleep.

“Woah guys, I hope you didn’t have too much fun without me.” Matthew had come back to the table with another drink in one hand and a reindeer sugar cookie in the other.

“Sorry Matthew, you missed a lot. Kiku here chugged three beers in a row and Arthur danced on the table.” Francis dead-panned, his bored expression not changing.

Matthew snorted and sat down.

“Sounds like a great time. Wish I could’ve been there to see it.”

Suddenly, Kiku stood up from the table and put his coat on. “Fuck this, I can get drunk somewhere else.” he muttered. With that, he was gone.

The four left at the table stared as he walked away, mouths hanging wide open. Arthur cleared his throat and sat up in his seat. “I’ve never heard that guy say more than two words in my life.” he said, stifling a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s how much these Christmas parties suck!” Alfred laughed.

Francis suddenly stood up from the table this time and looked at Arthur. “Wanna get out of here?”

Arthur nodded and got up. Francis put on his coat and scarf and downed the last of his drink. Matthew and Alfred shared a knowing smirk and then looked back at Francis who was helping Arthur with his own coat. Arthur tried to push Francis away while insisting he didn’t need help, though as soon as his coat was on he took Francis’ hand in his.

“I’ll see you two gentlemen later.” Arthur said to Alfred and Matthew before turning to leave with Francis.

“Make good choices! Use protection! Check yourself before you wreck yourself!” Alfred called after them before Matthew elbowed him in the stomach.

Francis turned and winked at the boys before leaving the function hall with Arthur. It was icy outside and a half-tipsy Arthur clung to Francis’ arm as they went to Francis’ car. They drove back to Francis’ apartment and by the time they got there it was snowing heavily outside.

“Good thing we left when we did. Would’ve been hell to get home if we left now.” Arthur grumbled as he made his way into Francis’ kitchen. Francis followed him and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Yes, it was good we left. Those parties are always terrible anyway.” Francis said, crossing his arms over his chest and watched Arthur take off his coat. “Do you want something to drink?”

Arthur turned and raised an eyebrow. “Depends on what you’ve got, Frog.”

Francis laughed and went over to Arthur. “Well I have wine. obviously, but I’m not sure if I have anything strong enough to make that sweater you’re wearing look less ugly.” Arthur gave him an offended look.

“Excuse me? My gran knit me this sweater.” He spread his arms out to show off an ugly Christmas tree pattern that he seemed quite proud of.

“It makes you look like your grandmother.” Francis teased as he went over to a cabinet to get them wine glasses. Arthur didn’t reply but followed him with a little smirk growing on his lips. He wrapped his arms around Francis’ waist and Francis turned to be face-to-face with Arthur. The Frenchman chuckled softly and kissed Arthur, draping his arms over Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur’s hands rested on the countertop on either side of Francis, who’s head was now resting against one of the kitchen cabinets.

“Merry Christmas.” Arthur murmured between sloppy kisses.

Francis grinned and kissed him back, his hands in Arthur’s hair.

“Joyeux Noël, Arthur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it! This is the end of the story! It was /so/ much fun and an honor to write with Emily (she's such a fantastic writer). I hope everyone enjoyed reading this as much as we both enjoyed writing it! I hope this isn't the last story we write together, even if it's another short, silly one. But who knows? Anyway, thank you all for reading this and enjoying the silly (mostly awkward actually) antics that occurred in this fic!  
> ~Katelyn (violinia) <3
> 
> Katelyn is waaaayyy too nice to me hahaha. Seriously, thank you so much if you took the time to read it. It was really just a lighthearted and comedic thing to write so I hope it made you laugh or cringe or both at the same time. Big thanks to my brilliant co-author who is a fantastic writer herself. Thanks for reading!! \m/  
> \- Emily (shutthefrukup -psst follow me on tumblr)


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